Abandoned Treasure Chest
by Madrigal-in-training
Summary: Unfinished and mostly forgotten stories that are returned here by popular demand. Also a few one-shots that didn't make the cut to publish. Currently contains Naruto, Game of Thrones and 39 Clues. If anyone wants to adopt them, feel free to PM me.
1. Pull Your Pigtails 1 (Naruto)

Untie Your Pigtails, I'll Still Pull Your Hair

 _At twelve years old, a time travelling Sasuke Uchiha can't kill Orochimaru or save Itachi. He can tackle his third goal though- seducing his future wife, Naruto Uzumaki. Of course, being Sasuke, he decided to go about it by tormenting her… fem!Naruto, Sasuke x Naruto, Most silly, very OOC Sasuke, Not to be taken seriously_

x

Declaration

He almost hadn't done it.

Sasuke Uchiha, elite Jounin of Konoha and husband of the Rokudaime Hokage Naruto Uzumaki, was a man with surprisingly few regrets. Yes, his childhood had been tragic, his one-time apprenticeship with Orochimaru disastrous, and his career as an international war criminal poorly thought out, but life had worked out for him. He had a wife that he was deliriously happy with- however odd it may have been to marry the Academy deadlast- and four children that ensured the Uchiha name would live on for at least another generation. He was, if not liked, then at least respected for his skills in Konoha. His former genin teammate and sensei had forgiven him and he had found a good drinking partner in the Kyuubi no Yoko. Even his clan's massacre had been avenged and his brother's reputation restored.

So when a raid on one of Madara's former bases yielded a Mangekyou-specific time travel scroll, his first thought hadn't been to use it. (No, actually, it was to wonder why Madara hadn't used it, which he easily deduced was because it would send you back two decades at most and that would have been counterproductive to the elderly Uchiha's long-term plans).

It hadn't been his second thought either. Or his third. Or fourth.

At thirty-two, it would have just dropped him back before his Academy graduation anyway. Back when Kakashi-sensei's habits drove him crazy, fangirls chased him around school, and kissing the dobe wasn't a viable way to shut her up. Besides he didn't have the time to go on impromptu adventures anymore. Haruka's class was throwing a play and Sasuke had lost the coin flip.

So understandably it was over a month before the scroll niggled his thoughts again. He had been visiting his brother's grave- the tiny, unassuming one in the Uchiha family plot rather than the massive statue built to honor his service to the village- when it came to him. Itachi had always been a fond memory at the back of his mind but he had been popping up with increasing frequency last year. His eldest son, Minato, was planning to take the Chuunin Exams this summer and Sasuke had more than once wished he had his older brother available as a primer on how to raise genius children.

' _It's a shame that he couldn't be here now,'_ the Uchiha had reflected wistfully, ' _He would have been a great role model for Minato and Uncle to all of the kids…_ '

Honestly, if he could go back, Sasuke would have changed a few things. He would ensure his brother lived past his twenty-first birthday. He would shove Orochimaru's offer down his throat and make him choke on it. He would have killed that idiot Inuzuka before he had a chance to go out with _his_ dobe or maybe just start dating Naruto earlier. One or the other.

So it popped into his head and got stuck there. It was there when he was trying to convince a nine-year-old that becoming Chuunin while on the cusp of double digits wasn't a failure. It was there when he was scolding Kurama [his daughter] about pranking the Academy senseis and Kurama [the Bijuu] for teaching her how to do it. It was there when he came back from his mission and found that Arashi wanted to see if he could fly (and, it turned out, he could not).

Less than two weeks later, he folded, followed the extensive instructions in the scroll, and pulled it off. After all, there's a reason why Sasuke Uchiha, presumably the most responsible student in the Academy, chose the most hyperactive, knuckleheaded kunoichi in Konoha for his rival.

A few moments later and he was blinking the light out of his eyes and looking around his apartment. It felt rather nostalgic; he had given this place up when Naruto discovered that little Minato was coming along and they agreed that an Uzumaki toddler needed a lot more room to run around in.

A quick check of the time, and then Sasuke Uchiha was heading off to the Academy with a slightly-less-cold indifferent look on his face and a much better made lunch in his backpack. He gave a polite nod of recognition to Iruka-sensei (the man had been invited over for dinners every other week by Naruto), received a taken aback expression in response, and took his seat. Stapling his fingers together, he waited for the love of his life to barge through the door.

Sasuke didn't bother to actually look at said door. He would hear the dobe long before he saw her.

Not surprisingly, this prediction proved true. The future SS-rank ninja, Rokudaime Hokage, and Sage of Mount Myoboku caused a bit of a ruckus when she skidded into the room and got subjected to a sharp rebuke from Mizuki-sensei. The Uchiha dark eyes followed the Uzumaki's progress to her seat, which (luckily for the Inuzuka's sake) was not next to Kiba.

Was he still jealous of a casual date between Naruto and one of her male friends? Yes, yes he was.

The Uchiha would have gotten up to talk to her- he wasn't sure about what, but he could improvise- if not for one _minor_ obstruction. Or two loud ones.

"Move Ino-pig! I'm sitting next to Sasuke-kun!" How did Sakura become such a good medic again?

"No way! Sasuke-kun wouldn't even be able to see the board with your huge forehead in the way." Was that really the next Head of the Intelligence Division?

"What did you say, Ino-pig?!"

"You heard me, _Forehead-girl_!"

"Excuse me," the Uchiha tried to clear his throat politely, "I'm trying to get through."

The two rivals froze in their spots and turned to him with identical stares of astonishment. Was politeness that surprising for him?

"S-sorry, Sasuke-kun!" Sakura stuttered out, roughly pushing one kid ahead to clear the aisle.

"Thank you," he replied. His eyelid twitched when that caused another gasp in the room.

"Hey, wait, Sasuke-kun! You're not sitting somewhere else today, are you?" Ino pouted, fluttering her eyelashes, "Because I was planning to sit next to you today-"

"I told you, Ino-pig, that I'm the one who's going to sit with Sasuke-kun!"

"Let's have Sasuke-kun clear it up then," the Yamanaka sniffed, "Come on, Sasuke-kun, who would you rather sit with today? Me or Forehead-girl?"

"Sasuke-kun, will you sit with me today?" Sakura asked hopefully.

Sasuke stared at her blankly. He had liked her as a teammate… eventually, and she was a cute kid, but she wasn't a bewhiskered blonde prankster. "I'm sitting with Naruto."

"W-what?!" Ino gasped, horrified. "Why?!"

Sakura paled. "You don't _like_ Naruto-baka, do you, Sasuke-kun?"

"Yes, I do." Normally, the speed by which his classmate's minds jumped to romance would have annoyed him, but in this case, they were correct.

"What did Sasuke-kun say?!"

"He likes Naruto-baka?"

"No! Sasuke-kun must have lied!"

Sakura and Ino's attention was immediately drawn away from him to glare at a shocked blonde, along with the majority of the girls in their class.

"What did you do to him, Naruto-baka?"

"Did you blackmail Sasuke-kun into saying that?!"

"She's too ugly for Sasuke-kun!"

The Uzumaki rapidly paled. "What? Wait, no, I didn't do anything," she denied, waving her hands in the air frantically, "I don't even like the teme!"

Killing intent started to fill the air.

"She didn't blackmail me," Sasuke said helpfully, "And I think she's really cute."

The killing intent climbed up another notch.

"Nooo! I won't believe this!"

"What could he possibly see in that idiot?"

"Naruto-baka must be a phase!"

"Naruto's not a phase," Sasuke looked offended, "I'm going to marry her someday."

The combined killing intent was approaching Chuunin levels now.

"No, he's not!" Naruto shrieked, "There's nothing between us, I swear. Ko-Ko-Kodi, why are you taking out a kunai?!"

The last word seemed to throw Iruka out of his loop because he intervened. "THAT'S ENOUGH! ALL OF YOU BRATS SIT DOWN NOW! CLASS STARTED ALREADY!"

Half the class was glaring heatedly at Naruto as they slowly followed Iruka's orders. The Uzumaki herself could have scorched a certain Uchiha with her glare. Sasuke didn't notice; too preoccupied by his smalltalk.

"I think her whisker marks are cute, don't you?"

x


	2. Pull Your Pigtails 2 (Naruto)

Two: Condition

For the remainder of class, Iruka Umino was constantly sending him concerned glances, Naruto Uzumaki was trying to bore a hole in his head with her eyes alone, and the rest of their classmates were either worried, surprised, or curious about his declaration. They would probably have been more surprised if they knew what he was considering.

Sasuke was contemplating marriage.

Technically, clan heirs were allowed to marry as soon as they become legal adults. So if he bought enough ramen beforehand…

The Uchiha shook his head. Even Naruto wouldn't be bribed into a marriage by ramen.

No harm in asking though! He didn't even have to head towards her since Naruto jumped to her feet the second the bell rang and stomped up to his desk. Icy blue eyes, puffed up pink cheeks, air crackling around her from the leaking chakra- she looked a lot like her older self. This probably wouldn't lead to a violent chase of life and death that culminated in mind-blowing sex though. Sadly.

"Apologize teme!" She demanded.

Sasuke raised one haughty eyebrow in response. She had _despised_ this expression.

Naruto's eyelid twitched. "Stop playing innocent and tell the class you lied!"

"I didn't lie," he stated, matter-of-fact, "I really do like you."

Naruto peeked nervously at the growling Yamanaka. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," Sasuke paused, "Will you marry me?"

He couldn't hear her answer from the furious shriek from his left but Naruto's trembling fists implied that it wasn't positive.

"Listen, Uchiha. I like a prank as much as the next girl but siccing your fangirl horde after me is low," the Uzumaki almost begged, "Just deny it already."

The Uchiha considered it. Looked like taking the direct approach wouldn't working here. Naruto didn't believe in his inexplicably timed yet perfectly genuine change of heart.

"Do you want to spar?" It was a proven technique that had gotten them together before.

"Huh? Are you trying to distract me?"

"We can set a prize for the winner. What do you want?"

"Er…" There was an almost visible struggle between Naruto's love of sparring and her current ire with his 'prank'. Finally, a compromise was reached. "You have to admit that you lied about liking me!"

"Okay," Sasuke agreed. He had been more skilled than the blonde before and the gap was even greater now. "And if I win, you have to let me pay for your ramen."

Naruto appeared baffled. "How is that a prize for you?"

"It gives me great personal satisfaction to see to your physical needs," Sasuke replied with a straight face.

The blonde studied him, apparently convinced that he was mocking her but unsure as to how, before scowling and heading outside. Since it was lunch, Sasuke followed.

They had gathered quite a crowd when they reached the courtyard and fell into the classic Academy stance. For a second, his body moved to the Receptor Stance commonly favored by the Sharingan wielders of his clan before he corrected himself. Not a second later, Naruto shot forward.

' _Sloppy punch.'_ He ducked underneath.

' _Needs to work on her speed._ ' One step back to miss the follow-up.

' _Left foot too sharply in center._ ' His leg swept under her own.

' _Her eyes are pretty in this light._ ' Sasuke pinned her body down, admiring the way the exercise caused her cheeks to flush, while their referee (Shino had seemed dependable) counted it out.

"This spar goes to Uchiha-san," the Aburame stated in his monotone.

The dark-haired boy jumped up and offered his hand to the blonde. She ignored it as she scrabbled up as well. The entire crowd was cheering him on; most of the fangirls apparently convinced his momentary insanity was over now that he had gone back to beating Naruto up.

"Don't get too cocky teme." Her cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. "Now you have to buy me ramen and I plan to clear your wallet out."

He smirked. "It's a date."

Sasuke then proceeded to turn and walk off into the sunset (or Academy), while Naruto was left behind with a horde of pissed off fangirls.

x

Up in the afterlife, Kushina Uzumaki was getting terrible flashbacks about her time at the Academy with another persistent boy genius.

' _Oh, my poor, poor musume,'_ she lamented, ' _This is only the beginning…_ '


	3. Pull Your Pigtails 3 (Naruto)

Three: Appeasement

"Sasuke would you mind staying back for a little?" Iruka asked uncertainly, as the final bell rang.

The Uchiha politely stopped in front of the desk. Naruto also lingered near the doorway.

"I'll see you at the Hokage's Tower for dinner," he offered, making her nod uncomfortably before she fled. Sasuke turned to look at the equally-uncomfortable Iruka, who looked like he was contemplating fleeing right now.

"Ahem, Sasuke, I wanted to speak to you," the Chuunin stood up straight, "You know that, as well as being your sensei, I can also be a confidante, right? That you can come to me with any problems you might have and that I'd do my best to help you with them?"

"Yes." He knew. He didn't care but he did know.

"So is there anything you would like to talk to me about?" Iruka prodded.

Sasuke nodded. "Will you be my groomsman?"

Iruka's eyes bugged out. "I'm sorry?"

"My groomsman," the dark-haired boy clarified, "For when Naruto and I get married."

His brother would make a good best man and Kakashi could be another groomsman. Since Gaara and Naruto were so close, he should probably make the Kazekage a groomsman too. If Iruka agreed, then that would bring the number up to three and he would only need to find one more.

' _Maybe a miniaturized Kyuubi clone in a bow tie…?'_

"For when you get married," Iruka repeated faintly, "To Naruto?"

"I admire her greatly," the Uchiha informed him.

"I- uh, see," Iruka struggled to regain his composure, "To be honest, I didn't get that… er, impression from your fi-interactions before."

"I didn't know how to express my feelings to her," Sasuke confessed. That, at least, was true.

"I'll say," the brunette Chuunin muttered under his breath. "Er, so where did these feelings come about then- if you don't mind my asking!"

A bolt of inspiration struck the Uchiha. "My mother."

"Your mother?" If Iruka Umino could have picked any number of reasons for his most antisocial student's apparent and sudden crush on his favorite one, than Mikoto Uchiha wouldn't have been it.

"My mother, Mikoto, was best friends with Naruto's mom, Kushina," Sasuke explained, "Growing up, I know that not a lot of parents liked Naruto but my parents weren't like them. My mom would talk about how cheerful and cute the Uzumaki girl was and how her mom was the same. Strangely enough, we weren't allowed to talk to her."

' _Because they were Uchiha and Naruto was the Kyuubi's jailor,'_ Iruka realized nervously.

"I guess one of the factors that drew my attention was knowing that my Mom would have approved of her," Sasuke mused. He hadn't known about the connection until after they were married though. "Then it was her determination and ambition that kept my eyes there. She'll be a great ninja, don't you think?"

"Yes Sasuke, I do," Iruka looked pleasantly surprised. A warm smile crossed his face at how warm and heartwarming his student's message was. To have developed a crush because he knew his mother had approved of her…

"I also saw a picture of Kushina Uzumaki in a bathing suit and it looks a lot like Naruto's Orioke no jutsu," the Uchiha added bluntly, "So there's _that_ to look forward to."

' _Sasuke Uchiha has hit puberty. Oh, dear…_ ' Iruka would have pressed more but his time ran out.

"I'm sorry, sensei," his student said hurriedly, checking the clock, "I've enjoyed our talk but Naruto would be upset if I don't leave soon. I don't want to be late for our first date!"

He sprinted out the door, leaving a stunned Iruka silently mouthing 'date' behind.

x

"But Ojiisan, he's mocking me!"

"I understand that you're upset, Naruto-chan," the Sandaime coughed to try and hide his smile, "But I simply cannot punish a student for a love confession."

"He's just doing it to get his fangirls mad at me," the Uzumaki insisted, not hearing the door open, "It's not a real love confession."

"Perhaps you should discuss this with him?" The Hokage suggested mildly. "Hello Sasuke-kun."

"Good evening Hokage-sama," Sasuke answered respectfully as the blonde whirled around. He had managed a quick shower and change of dress before arriving at the Tower.

"What are you holding?" Naruto's eyes widened, "What are you _wearing?_ "

"I brought you flowers." He offered the bouquet. Future knowledge had come in handy here since he already knew what her favorite flowers would be. "Sunflowers for how cheerful you are and forget-me-nots that are almost as beautiful as your eyes."

Naruto gaped at him. Was that last line too much?

She soundlessly accepted the bouquet and then looked at his outfit. Frowning, the Uchiha checked it over too. It was a simple blue short-sleeve shirt and black trousers, only a little fancier than what he normally wore.

"Too much?" He inquired.

"This is _not_ a date teme." Despite her words, she handled the flowers gently as she handed them over to the amused Hokage. "We are going to Ichiraku's where you will be paying for my dinner."

"Yes, about that," the Sandaime's eyes twinkled, "Today is a school night. I hope you plan to have her home at an acceptable hour Sasuke-kun."

"Yes, sir," he nodded seriously, "I promise to escort her home before her curfew."

Naruto twitched. "I don't have a curfew."

"By seven then," Sasuke offered his arm, "Maybe we could have a stroll in the park after dinner?"

"Not a date," she reiterated, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room.

Sasuke smiled internally as the blonde manhandled him to the ramen stand. This was actually rather fun. They hadn't dated much in the last timeline; jumping straight from trying to kill one another to planning a wedding after the consequences of too much make-up sex, and the middle was surprisingly nice ground. He wouldn't mind doing this right second time around.

His limited chakra sensory ability alerted him to a white-eyed blue-haired girl following them. Sasuke offered her a jaunty wave.

Ha! Guess who _wasn't_ going on a date with Naruto Uzumaki, Hyuuga?

"Old Man Teuchi, Ayame, I'm here for dinner," Naruto announced cheerfully, as she ducked under the wooden slats. Sasuke ducked too before they could hit him. "Get those pots ready because teme here is paying for everything!"

"Naruto-chan!" The pretty brunette waitress greeted, looking at him curiously and then in mild astonishment at his clan sigil. "Uchiha-san is paying for your dinner?"

"We had a spar and this was one of the conditions of the victor," Sasuke stated.

"Then Naruto-chan won?"

"Ah, not exactly," the blonde rubbed her head sheepishly, "Teme here said that I have to let him buy me a meal if he won."

The waitress clapped her hands together. "Oh! Like a d-"

"Not a date," Naruto interjected quickly, "This is _not_ a date."

Sasuke picked up the menu and skimmed through it. Looks like it hadn't changed much since the last time his wife had dragged him there. "May I have the chicken ramen please?"

"So polite," Ayame approved, "And what will you have, Naruto-chan?"

"Huh? The teme isn't polite. He's a total jackass," the Uzumaki drew off when she saw the disapproving expression on the other girl's face, "Er, I'll just have my usual then."

Sasuke inwardly grinned. Who knew basic manners would be so rewarding?

Naruto stayed silent until she was done with her first bowl. Barely a fifth of the way through his, the dark-haired boy prolonged the meal by staring at his crush intermittently. He did favor Ayame with another 'thank you' when she brought out the blonde's second bowl though. She flushed in response.

"Will you stop that?" The Uzumaki asked plaintively.

"Stop what?"

"Being _nice_ to my friends."

"Would you rather I be rude to them?" He cocked his head to the side. He had a lot of practice there then.

"No!" Naruto put down her chopsticks and rubbed her head frustratedly. "I want you to go back to being the icy, no-good teme that I know. Stop saying weird things and bringing me flowers and-"

"Is it so hard to believe that I like you?" Sasuke interrupted. He had wondered about this. When the blonde rejected his confession, it had been one part anger that it was Sasuke doing the confessing and two parts confusion that anyone would do so at all. Had she been this insecure the first time around?

' _Before Orochimaru, I wouldn't have noticed any insecurity,'_ he admitted silently _, 'And afterward, her training with the pervert instilled genuine confidence in her. Then there was the war and she was pursuing me instead…'_

"It's hard to believe that you have a human heart," Naruto grumbled, not noticing the flash of hurt on the other student's face. "Look, you can still tell everyone that it's a joke tomorrow-"

"I'm not lying to them," the Uchiha insisted calmly.

She looked at him with exasperation. "Why would _you_ like _me_? You would always insult me and fight with me in class! You didn't do that with any of the other girls."

"Yes, but I didn't do anything else with any of the other girls either, did I?"

She shook her head. "I don't believe you."

' _You don't want to,'_ Sasuke thought. "I'll change your mind. I'll show you how much I lo-like you."

Naruto considered the ramifications of his many, _many_ fangirls to that and frantically shook her head. "You don't have to."

"I want to."

"We'll be a terrible couple! We'll fight all the time!"

"I know some interesting ways to make up then."

Maybe it was because of the Orioke no Jutsu but Naruto wasn't quite so naive when she heard that. She stared at him for almost fifteen seconds before her face turned a violent shade of red.

"I- You- Teme!" Jumping off the stool, Naruto Uzumaki attained another accomplishment that Sasuke Uchiha had never thought her capable of. She abandoned a bowl of ramen- her second one even- to run out of the stall. Withholding a sigh, Sasuke took out his wallet and counted out the bills.

"Thank you for the meal, Ayame-san." He handed her the correct amount and a generous tip. Sasuke wanted to build a good relationship now since they were likely to spend a great deal of time at the Ichiraku establishment. "Naruto didn't feel well enough to finish though."

"I can see that," she said sympathetically, looking at him with knowing eyes, "Uchiha-san, if I may speak out of turn here?"

He gestured for her to continue. "Naruto's a sweet girl. She doesn't know how to handle kindness sometimes but that doesn't mean she's not truly grateful for it."

"Thank you, Ayame-san."

"And I think you two would make a very cute couple!"

x


	4. Pull Your Pigtails 4 (Naruto)

Four: Positioning

The next three days of Sasuke's Crusade didn't yield many results.

On the first day, he walked to class with a handful of wildflowers to gift to her. She promptly threw them in the trash and proceeded to be nearly late afterward, so he wouldn't get the opportunity again.

On the second day, he sabotaged her lunch and then offered to share his extra-large one with her. She declared that she would rather go hungry and then snuck off campus to eat at Ichiraku.

On the third day, he passed her a whirlpool-inspired poem found in his mother's trunk. She sent back a reply stating that she didn't have red hair or violet eyes but at least he got her last name right. Sasuke double checked the poem and saw that it was addressed to one Kushina Uzumaki. Dammit.

Then, after a long day of rejections, he would go through his clan's archives and try to find potential cures for Itachi's Mangekyou Sharingan. There wasn't much success there either, which is why he was so irritated when Kiba got his attention the next day.

"So the Uchiha's got a crush on Naruto-baka?" Kiba smirked, "And she keeps rejecting you! How does it feel to have the sandal on the other foot?"

Sasuke didn't take much offense to this, knowing that the Inuzuka was annoyed by how almost every girl in class fell over themselves to get his attention. He _was_ irritated by something else though…

"Do you consider Naruto Uzumaki to be attractive?" Sasuke demanded.

"Huh?" Kiba looked bemused, "I guess she's sort of cute."

Sasuke unleashed some of his killing intent. Since it was powered solely through yin energy and he had _many_ negative life experiences to draw on… "Oh? Do you like her then?"

Kiba froze still in terror. Shino's body emitted a low buzzing sound. Chouji shivered.

Unlike the others, a pallid Shikamaru could still move. He leaned forward and met him with wary eyes. "She's not his type."

"She better not be," the Uchiha replied coldly, withdrawing his KI. To his satisfaction, the Inuzuka took a seat at the other end of the classroom from the blonde from then on.

He felt a little guilty when Naruto seemed to realize this though and, not aware of the reasoning, looked hurt by the rejection. To distract her, Sasuke proposed another date and got a book thrown at him. She didn't look sad anymore though…

At least Kiba Inuzuka now knew that she was off-limits, which was the one good thing accomplished today (Sasuke wasn't aware that he'd accidentally stabbed his own foot by showing every other boy that Naruto Uzumaki was someone worth fighting over). The day only got better when chakra control lessons came around.

"Very good Sasuke," Iruka praised, favoring him with a smile for the dozen leaves pasted on his hands. "This is the last lesson for today and since you've already mastered the technique, you can go home early."

"Hai Iruka-sensei," the Uchiha nodded absently, ignoring him in favor of the way of the wind blew a blonde's pigtails around. Naruto made a shout of frustration as yet another leaf flew off of her head. "Actually maybe I should volunteer to help some of the other students."

"Oh," the Chuunin's eyes followed his own and he looked amused, "Well Chouji could use some help-"

"Shikamaru's available." Sasuke promptly got up and moved to the other end of the courtyard where the Uzumaki sat. "Hey dobe. Iruka-sensei says I'm supposed to help you practice."

She glowered at him. "Are you here to make fun of me?"

' _Hmm, honesty is the best policy,_ ' the Uchiha determined. "Only a little. You suck."

Oddly enough that admission drew a small smile. Encouraged, Sasuke continued. "You're using too much chakra for those leaves."

"I can't use any less than I do now," Naruto admitted reluctantly.

"Then we'll try an area that's hard to channel chakra to. Will you take your sandals off?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "This isn't like one of your 'making up' ideas, is it?"

"...Do you want it to be?" At her unimpressed look, he added, "I would never do that in public."

"You should never do that _at all_ ," she stressed, before following the directive.

"Good, now try and channel chakra to the soles of your feet. The least amount of chakra pathways are located there, so it'll be harder for you to overflow them." Her feet were soon a light bluish color, which, after some encourage, dimmed down to the faintest pale blue glow. Sasuke promptly added a leaf to it before Naruto's impressively short concentration span could waver and…

"It stuck!" The radiant smile Naruto gave him was wiped off a second later when a soft expression crossed his own face. She returned to looking away, blushing and grumbling as Sasuke considered the next step of his Plan.

"Have you ever heard of the tree-walking technique?"

x


	5. Madara's Woes 1 (Naruto)

_The persistent allegations that Uchiha Madara would fall for a diminutive Senju heiress, with an annoyingly persistent moral compass and an inability to keep herself out of trouble, were as ridiculous as they were true. femNaruto x Madara, fem!Naruto, Time Travel, series of disordered one-shots_

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

As with many of Madara's troubles, both real and imagined, this woe could be traced directly to the actions of one Hashirama Senju.

Specifically, it could be directed to that early morning spar in late summer, when Hashirama chose to broach the topic of his family. Since they had made a mutual, if unspoken, pact to not discuss their clans during these rendezvous, Madara was understandably surprised when he started speaking. Although, Hashirama at least had the common sense to avoid using names.

"I'm worried about my baby sister," the brunette began, ignoring Madara's wide-eyed glance, to frown down at the rippling water. They were relaxing by the riverbend, skipping stones, floating leaves, and casually debating the merits of disemboweling a man vs. slitting his throat.

There was a pause, where Madara realized that he was expected to reply. "Er… why?"

"She's showing signs of becoming a great beauty," Hashirama sighed, as though this was a great hardship to be borne, and not, Madara rather thought, as something women- useless creatures that they were- took pride in.

"My father will probably seek to secure a match for her soon," Hashirama continued, his voice laced with the kind of unfathomable sadness that only he, fortunately, was capable of commanding. It was irritating enough on him, and Madara shuddered to think about how awful it would be if others could utilize its power. "She may have to leave the Compound soon, and I know she's worried about being forced to a man she could never love and having to never see us again."

Madara shrugged. "It happens," he said, nonchalant.

Hashirama turned, and glared at him with light hazel eyes. "It shouldn't," he snapped, "She doesn't want to be bartered like some sort of prized cattle. She wants to be a shinobi!"

Madara stared at him. "Women can't be shinobi," the Uchiha pointed out, in what he believed to be a perfectly reasonable manner, "They're weak. It just isn't _done._ "

"That's wrong!" Hashirama declared, passionately, and Madara sighed, because his friend would soon descend into one of his impossible sermons on how the world _should_ be, and _could_ be, but never would be. "Women should be trained in the shinobi arts if they show a desire for and aptitude in the subject. My sister is a shinobi _prodigy_ , but no one would train her because she was born a female!"

Madara cocked an eyebrow. "Then how do you know if she's a shinobi prodigy?"

"Oh, ha ha," Hashirama suddenly realized what he'd said, and laughed weakly. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, and studiously avoided Madara's keen gaze. "I- ah, may have taught her?"

"You taught a _woman_ shinobi skills?" Madara asked, in acute disbelief.

Hashirama's sheepishness faded, to reveal hints of defiance. "The Uzumaki teach their clanswomen fuuinjutsu."

"The Uzumaki are not right in the head," Madara replied swiftly, "And those measures are taught as _passive_ skills, for defense and for binding. You have taught her to fight, haven't you?"

Madara pressed on. "You could be executed for that. It's a crime on par with teaching an outsider clan skills!"

Hashirama looked away, and a note of frustration crept into his voice. "She's only ten, and you should see how some of the men look at her." Anger glinted in those normally understanding eyes. "My brothers and I can't look after her all the time. She needs to be able to protect herself."

Madara snorted. "I doubt any child could be that pretty. You are mistaken."

A small smile appeared on Hashirama's face. "I doubt that," he replied, his bipolar personality switching to happiness, "One day, I will have to introduce you to her, and you'll see that her beauty has been blessed by Kami herself. And as for punishment… well, I am already speaking to you, am I not? What is one more crime on top of that?"

And with those lighthearted words, Hashirama bound to his feet and jumped on top of the lake. The chakra sliding below him kept him above the water, but the challenging grin he sent to his dark-haired friend did not keep him up there for long. As Madara did his level best to wrestle his friend into the water, he forgot about the brief mention of the beautiful girl-child who was taught to be a shinobi.

xxxxxxx

Madara was abruptly reminded of their conversation, when he arrived at the edge of their river bank, and heard laughter from behind the fronds. Fingering a kunai in his hand, the dark-haired boy silently crept through, and abruptly stopped, bemused by the sight before him.

The sound Madara had heard was loud, deep, and mirthful, but the laughter was falling forth from a delicate slip of a girl, as she drunkenly stumbled over the water. Hashirama stood before her, that damnably cheerful smile on his face, as he steadied her body with gentle hands and soft words. His somewhat friend looked perfectly at ease, teaching the second principle of chakra tension to a sister that would have him hanged if her husband ever learned of it.

Unless that _was_ her intention. Yes, Madara could see her motives clearly now. She used her diminutive size and abnormally bright, owlish eyes to lull his sparring partner into a sense of complacency. Then, when she had ensnared her brother's trust, she pressed him to commit treason, gathering evidence for the day when she could have him disposed from the clan leadership. That would create a vacuum for the girl to navigate her own candidate into power- likely another brother, or a husband- where she would lead the clan from the shadows. Then, through her own lack of leadership and general female ineptitude, she would lead the clan to ruins, preventing her poor brother's spirit from ever finding peace in the afterlife due to enabling the manipulative shrew's plans.

Yes, Madara Uchiha had definitely uncovered the girl's schemes. Hashirama was so fortunate to have someone like him around, to keep the boy from falling victim to his own naivete.

Secure in his own good judgement and generosity of spirit, Madara stormed forward to save his friend.

"Woman!" The Uchiha shouted, gratified that his angered tone had startled her into losing her footing. Unfortunately, Hashirama managed to catch her before she could fall into the water. "Unhand him at once!"

The girl looked at him strangely, and then pointedly swept her gaze down, to where _Hashirama's_ arms were wrapped around _her_. The Uchiha corrected himself. "Remove yourself from his arms!"

The girl untangled herself, and stepped back onto solid ground. "You didn't tell me that your boyfriend was the jealous type, nii-san," she snarked.

Madara bristled. "What did you say?"

Eerily bright blue eyes- glittering like poison- blinked innocently at him. "I'm sorry, stranger-san. I didn't want to draw out your insecurity."

"Aiko-chan, don't tease him," Hashirama chided, drawing from a deep emotional well of trauma and sorrow that Madara was reasonably sure he didn't possess. The girl rolled her eyes.

"My name is Naruto," she scowled, with the ire of one who had instigated this argument many times, and had resigned herself to the result. " _Naruto._ "

Madara felt confused. She wanted her name to mean 'fishcake'?

"Why don't you like your given name, imouto? Aiko has such a pretty sound," the brunette implored.

"It sounds girlish and weak," Naruto complained. Internally, the Uchiha agreed with that. As the two siblings began to bicker over the girl's name, Madara observed his adversary.

As Madara suspected, Hashirama had indeed exaggerated her beauty. The girl was in possession of striking eyes, of course, and golden hair. There was even something pleasing about the set of her features, and a lively, friendly air about her person, but Madara remained cautious. Her countenance was willful and obstinate, her eyes glittered like liquid poison, and her arms were littered with shallow cuts. She would make some man a miserable husband.

"This argument is unnecessary," Madara cut in, once the other boy's eyes began to dew, "I am aware of your schemes, shrew."

Naruto turned her attention to him, and arched an eyebrow. "My schemes?"

"You intend to have Hashirama hanged for treason, to sweep your eventual husband into power," Madara smirked, "Your plot has been foiled. I'm well aware of manipulative chits like you, who use their womanly charms to trick good men into acting against their better judgements. It's despicable to me that you would employ those arts against your own brother."

The girl stared at him, awed and horrified by his accurate reasoning no doubt, before she threw her head back and… laughed?

"Ka-mi, you can't possibly," she wheezed, between loud, brash, and unfeminine peals of mirth, "No! You do, you actually- you believe- me!" She bent forward, clutching her stomach, as she was lost in gales of laughter again. Despite keeping a calm exterior, Madara felt slightly discomforted by that reaction.

"Madara, I believe that you misunderstood," his friend interjected, awkwardly, "My sister did not employ any 'womanly charms'-"

"Don't have any," the girl broke in, grinning. Hashirama ignored her.

"She has no intention of disposing me, and she is not currently engaged to anyone. Nor are there any plans to engage her any time soon," the older brother continued. "My cute imouto would never do that to her favorite nii-san!"

Beside him, the girl nodded in agreement. "I just want to get stronger," she said, earnestly, "Nii-san has been kind enough to teach me a few skills. I wouldn't betray him by telling anyone!"

The gratitude in her voice, and the genuine affection in her eyes, convinced Madara of her honesty in a manner that words were insufficient for. Rather than reassure him, they merely raised his ire.

"If not for some plot, than why do you mean to acquire shinobi skills?" Madara questioned sharply. "Do you intend to go into battle?"

At her proud nod, the dark-haired boy tossed his head back and laughed. His laughter, unlike hers, substituted malice for mirth, and caused Hashirama to wince.

"You're far too weak for the blood and gore of battle, girl," the boy sneered. "You would be killed."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of!" Naruto snarled, "I can fight just as well as any man, and better than most. I'm not going to stay behind, when my brothers run headfirst into danger!"

"Nevertheless, you must leave," Madara insisted crisply, considering the matter resolved, "Women should not be outside the safety of their compound's walls." He ignored the way Naruto's blue eyes narrowed, or Hashirama began rapidly shaking his head in warning. "Your undertaking of shinobi training was foolish. A woman's place is in the kitchen, not the battlefield."

He never even saw the punch coming.

xxxxxx

"Aniki, where did you get that bruise?" Izuna asked, worriedly. The younger boy unveiled a container of pale green paste, and made to dab at the purplish skin. His older brother jerked away from the touch, but after seeing Izuna's hurt expression, reluctantly sat down before him.

"Sparring practice," Madara grunted. Knowing that his older brother's pride would prevent him from revealing any details about the matter, Izuna nodded. As he applied the healing paste though, the younger boy couldn't help but ponder the words. Had Madara been fighting the war veterans again? He must have, for none of the warriors of their own generation could stand against him.

"Aniki is so brave to challenge those men," Izuna thought glowingly.

"Next time, I'm setting those pretty locks of hers on fire," Madara thought darkly.

Xxxxxxx


	6. Madara's Woes 2 (Naruto)

_The persistent allegations that Uchiha Madara would fall for a diminutive Senju heiress, with an annoyingly persistent moral compass and an inability to keep herself out of trouble, were as ridiculous as they were true. femNaruto x Madara, fem!Naruto, Time Travel, series of disordered one-shots_

xxxxxxx

Over a fortnight passed before Madara entered the clearing to find only the younger sibling training. For all that his friend's recklessness and soft heart barred him from being the ideal shinobi, Hashirama was the paragon of protective older brothers. However, after weeks of Madara's attempts on his younger sister's life, the boy could be assured of Naruto's virtue in the other male's presence.

Unfortunately, he could be just as assured of her physical safety, after seeing her slam the older boy into the ground countless times through Madara's impromptu assassination attempts.

Despite the… temporary setbacks… that Madara suffered, the dark-haired boy had not considered his attempts to be lacking fruit. He had gathered a great deal of useful information from them, including the fact that Naruto had inhuman stamina, speed, and healing, but below-average reaction time and strength. And while she was in possession of monstrous chakra reserves- that were entirely wasted in her feminine body- her chakra control was shot to hell on a good day. Hashirama was also adamant that he would not teach her a single jutsu until she had mastered water-walking.

Which was why, he was unsurprised to find the blonde training today, waddling like a lame duck over the surface of the river.

Naruto turned a wary glare on him, but didn't make any move to engage him in conversation once he merely leaned against the tree. Madara supposed that the younger girl was still holding a grudge over having half of her long, blonde locks burned off. He didn't know why. The shoulder-length hairstyle didn't give any opponents a convenient grapple hold, and besides, wasn't she supposed to be afraid of marriage or something?

It was certainly Hashirama's main reason to have her here, training under his attentive supervision, than in a clan compound of lustful stares and wandering hands. Though, that did beg the question…

"Why doesn't anyone question your disappearance from the compound?" Madara demanded.

"They don't care to remember my existence," was the bitter reply. The young girl cheerfully added an explanation. "I'm Hashirama's illegitimate half-sister."

Madara nodded. The Uchiha Clan did not engage in infidelity or the practice of keeping mistresses- though mostly to keep track of the Sharingan- but he knew it to be common in other families. Madara wasn't too impressed with the practice- potential security leaks, erosion of clan morale, opportunities for enemy sabotage- and considered the Uchiha's stance on the matter to be another example of their innate superiority over the other shinobi clans in Fire Country.

At the dark-haired boy's contemplative silence, Naruto turned to peek at him through yellow-blonde lashes. "You don't pity me?" She asked, hesitantly.

Madara sneered. "I have no interest in the pathetic sorrows of your personal life, _woman_."

When she beamed back and took a step towards him, the older boy flinched, and gingerly placed one hand over his eye. Was she going to punch him again?

Naruto's eyes tracked the semi-aborted retreat and felt mortified. "I wasn't going to attack you!" She blurted out, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like this- AH!"

Unfortunately, by then Madara's fingers had already hurried through a series of seals, so he could gain the advantage of the first attack. And Naruto was on fire. Again.

xxxxxxx


	7. Madara's Woes 3 (Naruto)

_The persistent allegations that Uchiha Madara would fall for a diminutive Senju heiress, with an annoyingly persistent moral compass and an inability to keep herself out of trouble, were as ridiculous as they were true. femNaruto x Madara, fem!Naruto, Time Travel, series of disordered one-shots_

xxxxxxx

The nine months that Naruto was pregnant with their first child were the most miserable and nerve-wracking months of Madara's life. In fact, the Uchiha would even go so far as to say that having a heir was one of the greatest trials that men had to endure, what with their wives' erratic mood swings and disgusting food cravings. Naruto may claim that she suffered the greater indignity due to the actual process of childbirth, but Madara would beg to differ.

A woman's body was specifically designed for bearing children, and they were born with a higher pain tolerance as well, so it couldn't possibly be as difficult as Naruto made it sound. Had she walked less, than perhaps her ankles wouldn't even be swollen and he wouldn't have had to massage-

At this point, the Uchiha had been unceremoniously thrown out of the room by his unamused wife, and her unerring aim with sharp, metallic instruments of death. Madara scowled, performed a rude gesture in an amused Tobirama's direction (bastard still couldn't accept that his sister was now _Madara's_ wife), and stalked off to drink his pride away.

Fortunately, he could always find a sympathetic ear in his other brother-in-law.

"She has no respect for the proper order of things," Madara sulked, taking another elegant, if slightly tipsy, gulp of his sake. "A man's home is supposed to be his castle. Instead, she just throws me out without even a by-your-leave, and in front of that Senju bastard too!"

"That Senju bastard is my little brother," Hashirama reminded the other man, "And you knew that Aiko-chan was unconventional when you married her."

Madara snorted. "My wife's name is Naruto Uchiha. I don't know why you keep insisting on that silly birth name that she never answers to."

"If I do not falter in my course, then one day, she shall find the kindness and humility to accept the name our father gave her," Hashirama replied, with solemn dignity. Then he tossed back the rest of his drink, and choked down the burning liquid. Madara signaled the bartender over for another round.

"How is that witch of yours treating you?" Madara asked, conversationally. Despite heading rapidly into drunkenness, his friend had enough presence of mind to give him a dirty look for the insult directed at his cherished Uzumaki.

"My beloved grows ever more beautiful each day, with our child growing in her womb," Hashirama sighed, happily. Then, the man's shoulders slumped. "Her temper grows ever shorter as well."

Madara nodded wisely. "I told you that clan was crazy. Has she tried to skewer your manhood yet?"

Hashirama winced. "Tobirama made an insensitive comment, and I was the closest man on hand."

"With his utter lack of feeling and tact, that man is never going to get married," Madara said with relish. Then he paused and added grudgingly. "Though perhaps that is something to envy him for."

A smile tugged at the brunette's mouth. "There once was a time when I would have said that for you."

Madara waved the comment away. "A normal woman would not have married me. I can be… trying for those of the weaker sex. Naruto was an outlier."

"Both of our wives are outliers," Hashirama added, lifting a sake cup up for a toast. "To powerful, intelligent, and independent women… and their very lucky, very foolish husbands."

"I am not foolish," the Uchiha grumbled, but clinked his cup nonetheless. "Now let us drink to a happier thought. My son handily defeating yours in a spar."

"I think what you mean to say is _my_ son defeating _yours_ ," Hashirama laughed, taking another drink. "Another toast… to excellent friends, fine sake, and Tobirama being the next target of a woman's ire!"

"I'll offer three toasts for the last," the dark-haired man cried, tipping his glass. The two continued on for some length, exchanging ever ridiculous toasts, until Hashirama was giggly praising the way their hair hung impeccably in battle and Madara was boasting for his excellent taste in the drawing room curtains.

By then, they had cut out the middle man, and simply ordered a bottle of sake to exchange between them. When the sake bottle was finished, they ordered a second, and finally a third. As that bottle's contents began to dwindle, and Madara started seeing a double mirage every time he blinked, he signaled the bartender over.

"Put it on his tab," Madara nodded to the brunette sitting next to him, softly singing Kumo's national anthem as he hugged the sake bottle to his chest. At the man's dubious look, the dark-haired Uchiha cheerfully added. "Lord Hokage wanted to cover the rounds as a celebration of his firstborn child."

The bartender nodded in understanding, and cleared the bottles away without a thought. The Shodaime was well-known for being a generous, and kind-hearted man, and his happiness at the thought of soon becoming a father was obvious. Besides, why would someone as wealthy and powerful as Madara Uchiha have to lie about a simple bar tab?

It wasn't like Madara was still holding a grudge over the lost political position. Sure, his wife had tossed all thoughts of violence out of his head with extreme prejudice, but he could still be allowed the occasional petty revenge. And with the baby coming along, Madara would have to be more fiscally responsible. He hadn't budgeted any money for a third replacement crib, after all.

The moral dilemma of taking advantage of his intoxicated friend absolved, Madara gracefully stumbled outside of the bar. His eyes squinted at the sudden light stinging his retina, as his face molded itself into his familiar, heavy scowl. The bright sun of the Land of Fire did absolutely nothing for his headache.

And neither, really, did his brother's exuberant shout.

"Aniki," Izuna called, bounding up to the taller man with an entirely inappropriate grin on his face. A person should not wear the uchiwa symbol, and have such a silly smile on their face at the same time. Unless, of course, it was Madara's wife, whose cheerfulness was boundless, genuine, and earned him no shortage of censure from the traditionalists in the Elder Council.

(As far as the Uchiha Clan was concerned, there were two opinions to be held about Naruto Uchiha. She was either the greatest thing to ever happen to the Clan in general, and Madara-sama in particular, or she was the personification of all that was absurd, evil, and Senju in the world).

"Aniki, you won't believe the news," Izuna shouted, clattering to a stop in front of him.

Madara noted the sudden uptake in interest from the civilians around them, and his scowl deepened a notch. "Get that stupid grin off your face, Izuna."

His brother ignored him, as he was wont to do. "Naruto went into labor!"

Those four words- Naruto. Went. Into. Labor- were enough to instantly sober him in a manner that no injury, potion, or medical jutsu had ever done in the past. Madara was fairly confident his neck had suffered whiplash, as he jerked it directly in front of an eerily similar, though less handsome, face.

"Naruto's having the baby?" Madara whispered hoarsely. He did not pale, because Uchiha's did not show outward signs of apprehension, though his skin did take on a faint grey tinge.

Izuna opened his mouth, presumably to correct his brother's assumption, and tell him that there was no present tense to be applied, and Naruto had already given birth to a healthy baby-

"Kami-damned Senju!" Madara swore, abandoning his brother to leap onto the building. His head was spinning, partially from the alcohol and vertigo, but mostly because his son and heir was about to come into the world, and Tobirama had taken no effort to alert him to the matter.

Yes, that decided it. Damn Hashirama and Naruto alike; Madara was going to kill their brother.

However, Madara was one of the most powerful ninja in the world, if not- as he would like to proclaim- the _most_ powerful ninja, and his speed was one of his greatest assets. He managed to cross over half the village, and get into the Uchiha Clan Compounds in record time. A multitude of faces turned towards the dark blur rushing towards the clan head's home, several of the more astute ninja recognizing their leader, and Madara's mind absently recorded their reactions. Many of them had frowns on their faces, which caused the powerful man's fear to rise exponentially.

Why would they be unhappy on this joyous day of their clan heir's birth? Unless the birth was not going well, his Naruto was lying bloody and alone on her deathbed, his child had been stillborn…

For one brief, yet eternal, moment, Madara's mind paused and fiercely hoped that Naruto would survive. He did not care about this nameless, faceless, unborn child- not yet- and would gladly sacrifice any number of them to keep the girl with the ridiculous yellow hair and poison-blue eyes by his side. They could always try again, and if they could not, then it was time that Izuna pulled his fair share of the clan duties anyway.

With that decided, Madara burst into his wife's birthing room, coming to a stop just a few feet away from the bed. His heart beat rapidly, clearing the alcohol in his bloodstream, as he discovered her exhausted, but safe, and clean, and happy, as she cradled a bundle in her arms. Madara's Sharingan-active eyes flickered over each inch of her body, cataloguing the healthy flush of skin and steady heartbeat, before they rested on the determined gaze of his wife.

His mind registered a midwife as well, but he disregarded the elderly woman as a concern.

Naruto's chin raised in defiance. "Husband."

Madara's befuddled mind spun. Why did she greet him with a challenge? "Wife," he replied, carefully.

He walked closer to the bed, watching her tense at each of his steps. When he was standing less than an arm's length from her, Naruto tipped the bundle in his direction. Madara's breath caught at the porcelain skin under a head of downy black hair.

"Our daughter," Naruto told him, and he understood. For the entirety of her pregnancy, Madara had been adamant that he would have a son, an heir to impart his shinobi skills unto, to carry on his legacy, and to preserve his surname. He had not even tolerated the thought of a daughter, for what need would a man such as he, fill with a daughter?

But Naruto was alive, they both were alive…

"May I hold her?" Madara closed his eyes and deactivated his Sharingan, knowing that the crimson orbs unnerved his wife. With an exhale of relief, Naruto passed the bundle over to him. He placed one hand beneath the head, and curled the impossibly small, indescribably fragile being into his body.

The dark-haired shinobi traced the child's face with a finger. His pointed chin and slanted brow, so easily furrowed into an expression of derision or intimidation. Naruto's cupid bow lips, often upturned in a smile, and the button nose, that twitched seconds before she sneezed. The child opened her eyes, and Madara felt his throat tighten. Wide ash-black eyes that were a perfect mimicry of his own.

"She's beautiful," Madara declared softly, looking up with a genuinely grateful expression on his face, " _Thank you._ "

Naruto's lips spread upward in a pleased smile. "We'll have more," she assured, "Maybe we'll have a son next time-"

Her husband raised a hand. "Let us discuss this tomorrow," the Uchiha Head decreed, "This day belongs to the little one. We shall have to name her first."

Madara had not considered the possibility of having a daughter, but that was no impediment for a man of his brilliance. He could easily think up an appropriate name for his daughter, something strong and beautiful, steeped in the tradition and power of the Uchiha Clan. Yes, he would find the most appropriate name for the firstborn of Uchiha Madara.

"Her name is Uchiha Kurama," his wife replied, regaining her usual optimism and cheer, and with it, her customary disregard for her husband's wishes.

"What? I didn't agree to that," Madara protested. "That's not an Uchiha name!"

"I looked over the Uchiha name list, and I didn't like any of the female options," Naruto answered, unrepentant, "Today, I had to go through _over four hours_ of agonizing childbirth, while you got drunk at a local tavern on the opposite side of Konoha. Don't try to deny it; I know Tobirama-niisan wouldn't lie to me. You're lucky I'm even letting you hold Kurama-chan now."

Ignoring his impotent fury, Naruto turned and calmly spelled the name out for the amused midwife. And being one of those blasted Senju that Tobirama arranged for his sister's interment, she naturally wrote that deplorable name down.

Yes, Kurama Uchiha would be down one uncle by tomorrow night.

xxxxxxx


	8. Winter Rose 1 (Game of Thrones)

Winter Rose of Highgarden

 _The knight is supposed to save the princess from the dragon, but here the princess is a dragon, the knight is a bookish lord, and the greatest threat is either the old lady in the blue wimple or the honourable warden with the Valyrian sword. Because no one really thought a second Stark girl would be kidnapped for marriage or that the sensible Willas Tyrell would be the one to kidnap her. fem!Jon_

x

Willas Tyrell subtly adjusted the book under the cloth of the table, using one finger to mark the page, as he focused his attention on his guests. The North had sent only a few members to negotiate the trade deal between White Harbor and Highgarden but that potential slight was quelled by the distinction of the negotiators. House Manderly had sent their spare heir, Wyman, House Hornwood, their heir, Daryn, and his future good brother Torrhen Karstark, and House Stark, their Lord Eddard, along with assorted guardsman. All of these noblemen were accepted to the Tyrell's hearth with little fuss but his father could have burst a vein at the sight of Lord Stark's companion.

Standing beside her father, blue-violet eyes alit in wonder, was the infamous, baseborn proof of Lord Stark's dishonour. Willas had heard rumors that the Warden kept his daughter close at-hand, raising her beside her trueborn siblings and spurring any offers of fostering from his allies, and it seemed that they were true. Lyarra Stark was an uncommonly beautiful young woman of four-and-ten. Her features were strongly reminiscent of her Stark heritage, but for little details in the button nose and generous full mouth that hinted towards her possible relation to Lady Ashara Dayne. If that were the case, than she would be born of two old houses, even if the circumstances of her birth would prove a deterrent to any future alliances.

The girl must have felt his pensive look, for her eyes drew up, a wry quirk of her lips at his startlement, before she focused on her father. Lord Stark was staring at Mace Tyrell with an impassive look on his face, as the man blustered on about unexpected guests and that his daughter would have nothing to do during negotiations. The man hadn't quite succumbed to use the word 'bastard' yet, but he was certainly heading there as he huffed about how Margaery was too busy to host anyone presently and surely Lord Stark would like to return the young lady to her siblings?

"I would prefer to keep my daughter here, thank you," Lord Stark said dryly, after dismissing Mace's offers of an escort home, "Lyarra is perfectly self-sufficient when she wants to be. May I have your indulgence to use the Tyrell armoury and stables during my stay?"

"We offer it to you gladly, Lord Stark, but I doubt any of our available blades will match the Valyrian steel in your hand," Lady Alerie interjected. "Your guardsman may have more use for it."

"Thank you, Lady Tyrell. My daughter will likely use the facilities in my stead."

"Of course," his mother said gracefully, as though ladies naturally had need of the armoury.

"You might as well sit down then," Lady Olenna ordered, "I offer you and your party bread and salt in our home, Lord Stark. From now til the next fortnight when our business is concluded."

"We humbly accept your hospitality." The party of Northerners, sans their guards, walked up the small dias separating the main table from the remainder of the hall, as Lord Mace directed them to their seats. Willas could see that his father was still unhappy with hosting a bastard, as he placed Lady Lyarra besides his least-favorite child, the crippled heir.

' _I know he's upset but there's no need to punish me as well.'_ Willas gave his book one last mournful glance- his grandmother oft allowed him to read discretely under the table- before placing it away. Drawing on his memory of a lady's preferred pleasantries, the dark-haired man turned to his guest and readied himself for a trade of banality.

"Lord Willas Tyrell, Heir of Highgarden," he stated, one hand out to accept her hand for a brief kiss. There was another quirk of her lips and then he was somehow receiving a handshake instead. "Er… a pleasure to meet you, my Lady."

"Lyarra Snow and I am no Lady, my Lord." She had a melodic voice that spoke more confidently than he was accustomed to in the Reach. "You need not pretend courtesy for my sake."

"Perhaps for my own then? Your Lord Father would be offended if his daughter is treated poorly, even one that was not trueborn." Willas reflected on his words and then flushed slightly, as he realized how plainspoken he had been.

"If he were to take offense for every slight offered to me, then there would be no one for him to deal with," Lyarra countered. "He will appreciate your consideration however."

Willas' brow furrowed. "Forgive me, my former words. I meant nothing by them. Lord Eddard would care for any daughter to be insulted."

"As compared to Lord Mace, who personally insults his son? He makes his heir speak to a bastard."

"His cripple, my Lady," Willas corrected, smiling faintly. How oddly this conversation had begun. He waited for the recoil of shock and disgust and received an inquiring look in response.

"How did you become a cripple?"

"I was unseated from a horse in my first tourney. How are you at such ease by the news?"

"I saw one of my father's guardsman receive a stump for an arm during a hunt."

"You have my sympa- did you say, a hunt? You went on a hunt?"

"I would reserve that sympathy for the bear rather. And I have gone on many hunts. Haven't you?"

"I am the Heir of Highgarden."

"And I am the Bastard of Winterfell. Have you any point to this, my good ser?"

"Merely that your father did not jape when he volunteered you for the armoury."

"My father never japes, Lord Willas." He was treated to one more quirk of her lips, before her eyes fell down. "If you don't mind, may I see the book that you were reading?"

He drew it slightly into the light. _A Compendium of Useful Herbs, Roots, and Seeds in the Reach_ was embossed on the parchment. Each entry was separate from the others, so Willas carefully parted it to the last one he had read on the soothing effects of mint leaf. "Not very engaging for a young lady."

"Then it is to your fortune that I am not a lady," Lyarra quipped. "I don't have much knowledge on this topic, though I would like to gain more. May I read with you?"

' _This dinner may not be a waste after all.'_ Willas carefully angled the book across their laps, the sturdy cotton of the lady's dress brushing against his trousers. "My fortune indeed, my Lady."

They were unnoticed but for Lady Alerie, who saw her son and Lord Stark's bastard bow their heads silently over their meals and briefly sympathize with how bored her son must be. It kept the bastard from drawing attention to herself though and so, she made a mental note to put the girl beside Willas for the remainder of her stay. Her son could endure it for the fortnight and she would make sure to purchase a suitable gift in gratitude afterward. Perhaps Willas would like another steed…?

x


	9. Winter Rose 2 (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Two

For the next two days, Willas only saw Lyarra during meal times. He brought the _Compendium_ with him each time and, when it was finished, a treatise on Dornish spears gifted by Oberyn. They didn't have any more of those overtly familiar conversations, to his mild disappointment and surprise at said disappointment, but bending their heads together and reading was peaceful enough. Often they were left alone, as Garlan was at his keep, Loras in King's Landing, and Margaery at his grandmother's side.

The first time he saw her outside of meals was as he was walking outside. Willas had drifted close to the practice yard, and while the sight of men bashing each other with blunted swords was common, he didn't expect a slim girl amongst them. Dark hair braided into a sensible plait, arms crossed and full lips pursed, she was stared down one of the taller men.

Willas walked closer. There was a handy tree that he could lean by.

"You think kicking a man when he's down is sporting then, do you?" Lyarra demanded.

The man in question, Willas supposed, must have been the Tarly heir. Samwell had fallen to the ground, a bloom of purple already present on his jaw. And forehead. And left arm. In the same shape as the wooden blade in his hand. By the Warrior's name, who had let that boy hold a practice sword?

"I don't see a man there, my _Lady_ ," the soldier sneered, "Looks more like a craven fatass 'nstead."

The soldiers sniggered. Samwell whimpered. Lyarra narrowed her eyes further and looked rather like her Lord Father.

Then her expression cleared and she offered a tight smile to the men. She tapped the wooden sword thoughtfully against her thigh. "I cannot allow this insult to my friend stand. I demand a duel for his honour. Should I win, you shall all apologize to him."

"A duel?" The man snorted. "You jape, my Lady!"

"I am a Stark. I would never jape about honour." The girl turned and helped- or rather forcefully dragged- the pale Samwell up. "Do you agree to my condition?"

"All due respect, but I don't fight little girls," the man refused.

"I don't know, Kane, a woman seems right about the opponent for your skill." There was heckling.

"Careful there, boys. This one's Lord wouldn't be pleased to see his daughter threashed."

"Aye, and it would be a shame to ruin such a pretty face," another one chuckled.

Lyarra looked unimpressed. "You may defend yourself, sers."

Then, in a movement so fast that Willas almost missed it, her practice sword slashed upwards to hit under the man's chin. The soldier toppled back, the hilt of her sword connecting with his chest, before she spun, quick-footed and sure, to the next man. She ducked under his blow, jabbing the sword once, twice against his ribs, hooking one foot under his and pulling. Lyarra almost danced back, swerving to avoid the third man, hopping on the first's chest to prevent him from standing back up and using it to jump forward again. Her sword made a horizontal slash, overbalanced, and then her fist was there, where she ducked again. There were three men around her, but the girl's stature and speed worked to her advantage, as her sword arm flitted between the three.

' _She's barely using the blade._ ' Willas watched in silent fascination as Lyarra unbalanced, dodged, and feinted her way into the men's reach, the close enclosure preventing them from making broad strikes. They had the added disadvantage of trying not to hit each other, especially since this was an opponent that would cheerfully shove them into each other (and yes, there was indeed a wide smile on the girl's face). It was a strategy that was clever more than strong, daring more than skilled, and unlikely to fare half as well had her opponent's been wearing armour.

It wouldn't last for much longer either. These were trained soldiers of Highgarden and while her unusual fighting style may have unnerved them at first, one had stepped forward to engage her while the other two regained their bearings. They moved around to surround her, leaving enough space for each to make a strike of their own, and Willas judged that it wouldn't last much longer. Even now, Lyarra's cheeks were warming to a charming pink hue from the exercise.

Turned out that Willas was wrong.

"Leave her aloooonneee!" With a war cry that sounded more like a sob, Samwell Tarly stood behind one soldier with a massive leather shield in his hand. "Go away!"

The shield came down with a more than impressive clang- Willas winced; that would be a headache to remember, certainly- and one soldier was out of commission. The other had his attention drawn out and Lyarra darted forward, wrist flicking surely to unarm him. She moved to face the last man but he had also moved, this time behind Samwell. He held his sword to the boy's neck, as tears fell down the craven heir's face.

"Hold your sword down, my Lady," the soldier commanded. The sneer in his voice had left the title. "I hold your friend hostage."

Lyarra raised a brow, lowered her blade, and skipped over to the closest fallen man. She gently placed her foot against the groaning man's neck and pointedly raised an eyebrow.

"Fair enough." The man released the Tarly heir. "Call this one a tie then?"

"And I had hoped to win an apology for my friend too," Lyarra sighed, stepping back. "Thank you for the impromptu spar, ser."

"Nay, Tarly's proven not to be entirely craven, my Lady. I will apologize."

As the smiling Snow and stupefied Tarly helped the other men back up, Willas straightened from his tree. Then he turned and made his way back to the castle. This diversion was interesting enough but he had other work to accomplish.

x

Randyll Tarly furrowed his brow as he read the letter in front of him. Even though it had been sent by one of his most loyal knights, sent to Highgarden to try and make a man out of the useless boy he suffered for an heir, the Lord of Horn Hill still had trouble believing it. Jamon was not in the practice of lying but surely there must be _another_ Samwell that gave a trained soldier a concussion in defense of a maiden's honor? The tales around the barracks could be exaggerated but so far as to claim his son had faced three men without sword or armor? That he was consorting with some beautiful flower of the North? That one of the soldiers had apologized for calling him craven? _His_ son?

Of course, the letter also claimed that Samwell had been crying at the time, and he could believe that.

' _There's no end to the foolishness a boy would go through for a maiden's attention,'_ Randyll acknowledged. To think that he had spent so much time arranging tutors and lessons for the boy when all he needed was a pretty face to give him some spine. Still, progress was progress and Randyll was more than eager to continue the progress.

He drew out a fresh piece of parchment and started penning his reply. Randyll wanted more information on the girl and her family before he proceeded further. They said she was from the North. Perhaps his eldest should be fostered there. Even if it was the domain of the Usurper's attack dog, the harsh winds and stringent instruction might result in an heir that he wasn't entirely disappointed by.

x


	10. Winter Rose 3 (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Three

The treatise on Dorish spears had been finished quickly, with Lyarra appreciating the subject matter rather more than him. There had been a subsection on how it was common to coat one's blade with a weak poison or paralytic that had made the girl's eyes gleam. There was something about the light in those blue-violet orbs that Willas had found charming, even as he made a mental note to never offend a Stark ever. If this lust for battle was present in one of their maidens, then he shuddered to think how the men of the family would turn out.

He wasn't so wary that he hadn't offered to escort her around the castle's gardens tomorrow though. There were several plants and flowers in their possession that were mentioned in the text and should she learn to safely strain the properties from them, she may be able to strengthen her own weapons similarly. He received a surprisingly shy smile in response, one that had him return the gesture before lunch ended and she escaped to teaching Samwell how to properly wield a sword.

Willas watched her walk off, in that light manner she had that scarcely left an impression on the ground but must be evident in Winterfell's snow, and considered his day. He was in charge of the family's prized horse and falcon breeds, certain cash crops, and hearing petitions from the smallfolk every third day. All these responsibilities had been handled so far, and he was ahead of where he expected to be in his studies. He could write Oberyn a letter but the last one had been only a sennight past, and there was nothing new to share.

Well, except for the strange Northern bastard girl that shadowed her Lord, wielded swords, and read of poisons. Oberyn might be interested in her, especially if he knew of how lovely Lyarra was. Lyanna Stark had shared that beauty and Willas suddenly found himself more sympathetic to the Silver Prince's actions preceding the war.

Speaking of the Silver Prince, Maester Aryon had found a recent book on the Targaryens of old that he had hoped to read. Willas could pick that up for the next choice but he was suddenly struck by the understanding that he had chosen the last two books. He should find Lady Lyarra and encourage her to choose their next one.

Course decided, Willas headed to where he knew the young woman would be. The sparring yard.

"You need to stop dropping your sword, Sam!" Despite the exasperation in her voice, Lyarra's hands were gentle as she pulled the boy up to his feet. She bent down to pick his sword a second later, and Willas took a moment to admire her profile. "You guard yourself well enough but you keep losing your blade."

"I'm just not cut out for all this fighting," Samwell replied miserably. "Can we finish for the day now?"

"Not until you can guard against at least one of my blows!" Lyarra declared. Her friend promptly moaned. "Cheer up, Sam, we have an entire afternoon togeth- oh, hello, my Lord."

"Lady Lyarra. Samwell." He inclined his head towards the other boy and received a stammered 'my Lord' in response. "I hope that I am not interrupting your practice?"

"Not at all, my Lord!" Samwell beamed at him. No doubt he expected his torture to be done.

"You are but there's nothing to be done for it," Lyarra sounded matter-of-fact. "Perhaps you can help us with our current problem, Lord Willas."

Samwell hurried to gasp out his apologies for the disrespect but he was more interested in the quirk of her lips. Nothing said had been truly rude so far but Lyarra Snow, who seemed inordinately aware of her own status, regularly flaunted his own. ' _She acts disrespectful to test my boundaries.'_

"I would be happy to be of assistance," Willas answered, deciding to ignore the occasional stare of the guardsman. No doubt his grandmother would hear of this by dinner. "May I have your shawl?"

Due to the hotter weather of the Reach, all of her dresses had been accompanied by fine shawls of thin silk to hide her fair skin from the harsh sun. Lyarra had placed it on one of the many benches lining the packed dirt of the training yard. People could sit there and see how the guardsman of their castle trained and while the morning was preferred, even now there were servants and minor noblewomen giggling as he approached.

Willas bravely did not flee back to his study when one fluttered her eyelashes at him. He quickly retrieved the shawl and then recalled the knots his Aunt Mina (who had married into the Redwyne family and thus, learned a little of seafaring) had taught him. Cousin Horas' knots were far more secure but these were useful enough to attach the blade to Samwell's arms.

Lyarra's smile had made its reappearance as Samwell was pushed back towards her.

"Samwell has proven that he could summon some courage when necessary." Willas was aware of the anticipation and eagerness that rose in him, as he gestured for some men to come closer. The craven boy's paling expression suggested that his mind, at least, would be no one's disappointment. "I have a theory that I would like to test."

"Well I should not be the one to hold you back, my Lord."

A second later, and she had jumped left- right behind Samwell. The men followed, Samwell shrieked, and then two swords were suddenly trying to beat back the melee attacking them. The boy, rather larger and stronger than his more skilled companion, proved adept at barely hitting anyone but putting down the rare two that he _did_ hit. The lightfoot Lyarra proved even better at dancing around her opponents, pushing them towards Samwell's sword and ducking behind her companion when they tried to pen her in. The two managed a respectable seven minutes before the maiden was unarmed and Samwell forced to surrender.

Once the blades had fallen, Lyarra took a moment to catch her breath, her the cheeks the same fetching color as before, before grinning brightly. "Sam, you did it!"

"I- I did?" Samwell repeated, looking shocked at the man in front of him. He was a fresh recruit of six-and-ten but he had definitely been brought to the ground by the craven boy. "That was me?"

"Yes! You defeated two men yourself." Lyarra hugged him tightly. She jumped back a second later, as though remembering the more stringent propriety of the Reach and Willas was rather glad for it. He could already hear the light twittering of the women behind them. "I knew there was a fighter in you."

"Wait until my Father hears," Samwell brightened up, and then immediately wilted. "He'll yell at me for telling tall tales, I'm sure."

"I don't think you'll need to tell him." Lyarra lowered her voice and Willas had to strain to listen to them. "A few of the guardsmen here have your family's sigil. They've likely been reporting everything to him already."

Stepping back, she added loudly. "And if that doesn't work, you can always bash him over the head with that tourney sword!"

"Lyarra!" The boy's tone was almost more resigned than horrified now. "Please, let's not talk about me fighting my father. He won-"

"-the only battle for the loyalists against King Baratheon, I know," the dark-haired girl finished, tone amused. "Well, I've promised you an end to the day's practice if you could guard against me once."

"Then we're done?" Samwell perked up.

"Nope!" Lyarra laughed at his fallen expression. It was entirely unlike the twittering from behind, open and free. "You've guarded against six men today… But. Not. Me!"

She swiped up her sword, jabbed it forward and poked the boy's stomach harshly. Her second swipe, a vertical strike pushed him back two steps. The third was partially deflected to his left shin and then she withdrew the blade. One heartbeat and Lyarra nodded her satisfaction. "Well done."

Samwell promptly toppled back into the ground, groaning in relief as his body decompressed. Lyarra snickered to herself, as she turned and thanked the other men for participating. A few accepted it with peculiar expressions, not quite certain how to deal with a fighting woman, but others looked glad at the recognition. Lady Olenna Tyrell had readied them for strong women if not ones with blades.

"And I'm grateful for your help as well, Lord Willas," she finished, turning to curtsy. Lyarra's dress had been pulled up, the excess fabric tied to her waist, and canvas trousers visible beneath them, so it was an awkward gesture. Willas returned it with a short bow.

Technically, it was unnecessary, since he outranked her, but it allowed him a better look at her shoes. Rather than the soft slippers preferred by his mother, sister, and female cousins, she wore black hunting boots. A few minutes later and the green wool had fallen to its full skirt.

"If you do not have any additional plans for the day, then I would like your assistance in a matter of my own," Willas began, moving his cane to his left hand and offering his right arm.

She slipped her hand between his, fingers long and tapered against his shirtsleeve (and were not all of the angles of her body Valyrian in nature, he wondered), as a Stark guard stepped forward. Lyarra shook her head slightly and the man stepped back, looking at him warily.

"Where do you plan to take us, my Lord?" Willas wondered why she believed it to be a group outing, before her eyes fell on the Tarly boy and he was forced to suppress a brief rise of irritation. He was a Lord and it would be his decision whether or not to add another body to their search.

"I would like to show you the library." The stiff tone of his voice was met with one arched brow.

"Do you want to come with, Sam?" Willas was even more indignant by the clear dismissal of his stature. He tightened his fingers briefly and received a measured stare in response.

Unaware of the tension between the two, Samwell Tarly- who, frankly, was not nearly enough of a man to have come between the heir of Highgarden and a woman that interested- Willas' thoughts screeched to a halt. Samwell stated something to the effect of desiring to see the library but not until he had regained his breath in perhaps half an hour and coaxing them to continue ahead. Willas focused on that and not his newfound realization that he had desired more Lady Lyarra's company than her opinion on literature.

It was unsettling enough to deny until he had more time, the benefit of privacy, and perhaps a cup or two of tea, to contemplate. His body moved on its own to escort Lyarra out of the courtyard.

"Do you have anything against Sam?" Lyarra broke the silence first, waiting until they had walked past the spectators and into a copse of newgreen trees.

' _Not until you invited him with us._ ' "Should I have any reason to be an enemy of the man?"

"Sam may not be the most skilled or courageous swordsman out there but he is intelligent and kind," she informed him briskly. "Others looked down on him for his lack of martial skill. I did not think you would be one of them because…"

' _You didn't care that I was a bastard,'_ Willas finished silently. He felt ashamed suddenly, for another reason that he cared not to contemplate. "My apologies. I was unhappy with someone else and you had the poor luck to gain my ire."

She didn't look like she believed it but the subject was dropped nonetheless.

"Why are you taking me to the library?"

"To choose the next book for us to read. Though I would have taken you anyway. It's one of the finest rooms in Highgarden and I think you may like it."

"Perhaps. I was always better astride a horse with a sword in my hand, then with my lessons. Maester Luwin despaired of ever putting anything in that hollow head of mine."

"Most noble girls are taught by a Septa instead of a Maester."

She ducked her head down and Willas saw the flush rise in her cheeks. It was much less endearing this time. "Septa Mordane was… not pleased to be tasked with teaching a bastard."

"All the better for you then. A Maester's lessons are more advanced and thorough than a Septa's."

"Aye, though I think Lady Stark regretted her decision when Robb insisted that I suffer _all_ of his lessons with him."

"Robb is your elder brother?"

"Aye, and the best one any girl could have." The wide smile on her face bespoke of clear adoration. "He taught me to race a horse and wield a sword just as well as a man."

"And better than many, I would wager." He received a shy smile for that compliment and Willas mentally congratulated himself. And Loras claimed that all maidens wanted to hear about were their appearance or style.

"As a bastard, I was given more freedom than my sisters. I've learnt the more advanced sums and history, studied languages, geography, and rhetoric, and read the popular literature of the North."

"Your embroidery skills are just as adept then?"

"Better than yours, I'd hope," Lyarra remarked, causing him to chuckle. "I would like to thank you for allowing me the chance to choose a book."

"It is only fair." Willas shrugged. He was almost overbalanced when Lyarra's gait paused suddenly in their walk. She resumed pace a second later, having fallen silent and briefly looking at him with an indecipherable emotion in her eyes.

' _Have I done something to offend her?'_ The heir to Highgarden was not unpleased as they walked down one corridor of the castle to embark on the steps upward. The library took half the wing of the third floor and the path towards it was downright lavish in displaying the Tyrell wealth and power. Lyarra had fallen silent again but her eyes were flitting everywhere, taking in all of the gilded details, painstakingly accurate portraits, and vases of fresh flowers with an innocent wonder. Willas felt inordinately proud of her reaction to his family's history and power now.

' _She must not have seen such non-utility displays before,'_ the man reasoned, ' _The North is a harsh land where little beauty exists without purpose.'_

It was one of the reasons they were considered savages in the South but Willas balked at the term now. Lady Lyarra was wild and fierce, especially compared to the women that he knew, but she was no uncultured barbarian. Her mind was as quick as her sword and her kindness brighter than many.

Willas paused her before the door. "Will you indulge me by closing your eyes?"

He received a curious glance but Lyarra obediently did so. Not bothering to hide the smile present, Willas escorted her inside and moved further inwards to one of the best spots in the massive room. A circular dais at the center, where light fell from the stained windows above in pink, blue, green and violet shards, and marble reflected it outwards in a prism of colors. One could stand there and look forward to the stacks and stacks of literature gathered by his many ancestors.

Willas positioned her, stepped close behind, and bent forward to her ear. "Open your eyes."

"Oh!" Lyarra's small gasp of delight was even better than the quiet admiration. "It's _beautiful_."

"It was my grandfather's design," he told her, "It made it easier to divide the books. The room is divided by the twelve hours of the clock."

"And in the Hour of the Wolf?" Lyarra asked him.

"Westerosi history and folklore," Willas answered immediately. It was one of his favorite hours but he had hoped that she would choose a different one. Like the Hour of the Nightingale for his own family, though he doubted the biological sciences were of great interest to her.

"I would like to look there first. Thank you for showing me this, my Lord."

"It was my pleasure," Willas returned, genuinely meaning it. And wasn't that a surprise? Willas had rare few friends outside of his siblings and cousins, and yet, this bastard girl had somehow become one. It wasn't quite the surprise that Oberyn's friendship had been though.

The Heir to Highgarden stood back and allowed her to hurry forward, not quite running as her quick footsteps lightly tapped their way to the books. He was unaware of the small smile visible on his face or how he continued to stare, even when that dark braid flitted around the corner. A delicate cough drew his attention out.

Margaery's golden brown eyes were sad. "Hello, brother. I was looking for a new book on the Free Cities etiquette. Would you mind helping me look?"

x

 _If anyone's wondering why Margaery is sad, it's because she's a smart girl. She moved pretty quickly from a) her brother is starting to fall for a girl, to b) who is an entirely inappropriate marriage choice. She won't move to separate them yet though, because she thinks Willas too practical to ever propose and wants to understand the situation better first. And because she's a little girl that adores her older brothers and doesn't want to be the one to prematurely break apart their happiness._


	11. Winter Rose 4 (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Four

Margaery Tyrell made her move at breakfast. In a swish of skirts and a raised head, she confidently marched into the battlefield, gracefully sat beside her opponent, and shot her opening volley.

"Lady Lyarra, I hope that your rest was well?"

Those striking blue-violet eyes (and that was one point in her favor) looked at her in surprise. Her features held their startelement for a few seconds (one point down for the Lady Tyrell must show everything whilst revealing nothing) and then fell into the typical Stark impassiveness. Lips quirked upwards in a smile that was nervous but no less charming for it.

"Thank you for asking, my Lady. My rest was pleasant due entirely to the hospitality offered here."

"I'm glad that it should be so." Margaery's eyes noted that her plates held fresh fruit in abundance and little of the heavier fare. "Have you had any of the buttered biscuits yet?"

"I have tried one but I prefer the fruits here," Lyarra answered, "They are not so bountiful in the North and I fear I will become spoiled for all I have indulged here."

"Of that, there is no doubt!" Margaery declared proudly. "The Reach has yielded the sweetest fruits and crispest vegetables since the dawn of the Conqueror. You will not have truly experienced the amenities of our home til you have enjoyed these in full!"

She mentally noted another point for good taste.

"I am in full agreement with you." They ate silently for a little longer as Margaery noted this engagement to yield a tie. For her next… "Have you any plans for the day, Lady Lyarra?"

Her brother broke in there, having sat silently by the Northern girl's other side. He had a book in his lap but atypically had yet to open it. "I have promised to escort Lady Lyarra around the gardens."

' _A stroll amongst the gardens? That's far too romantic for such a short acquaintance!'_ Margaery thought, panicked. Her eyes moved to her grandmother, Lady Olenna having observed her silently thus far, and received a short inclination towards the baseborn girl. "I have wanted to take a stroll this morning, brother. Allow me to escort Lady Lyarra instead."

Her brother's brow furrowed. "There is no need for that. I have the time."

"Nonsense, brother! You have so many tasks on your shoulders already and it would give me pleasure to complete one of them on your behalf."

"Margaery, I am capable of fulfilling _all_ of the tasks I have, alone."

"While that may be so, grandson, I would like a useful mind to help me look through the budget for the next harvest," Lady Olenna stated, "As you are free, you will be my help. It's not like Mace will be any good for it."

Willas looked to be on the verge of protest- and wasn't that interesting for he rarely denied Grandmother- but he eventually inclined his head. Her brother proceeded to focus the whole of his attention to the breakfast in front of him, indifference shown 'fore the sharp slant of his eyebrows. He looked to be sulking in the same manner as he had on Loras' last name day, when she had stolen the last of the strawberry wine.

Margaery looked at her grandmother with gratitude clearly present and then returned to a puzzled and mildly anxious Lyarra Snow. The baseborn girl was beautiful (adding one point), politically ignorant (removing one point), and seemed not to care for the change in circumstances. Oh dear, not only was Willas falling for the Usurper's dog's bastard, but he could not even induce her to return the affection.

"I hope that you are not displeased with myself as a host?" Margaery inquired, unsure which response would worry her more. "I assure you that I have extensive knowledge of the gardens around my home."

Lyarra smiled back. "No, I am honoured that you would take the time to escort me, my Lady. I have heard many wonderful things about the variety of flowers available here."

"We have had many seeds imported from around Westeros and even the Free Cities. Is there any bloom in particular that you would like to see?"

"Lily of the valley and wolf's bane would be lovely. Perhaps some elephant ear, if you should have it."

' _The first two are pretty enough but why should she want elephant ear?'_ "Those are not the commonly named flowers, Lady Lyarra."

"Perhaps not but they are certainly useful! I had hoped to gather a few cuttings and bleed the leaves and petals for their poison," Lyarra confessed, her easy smile belying the blank stare Margaery presented her. The smile started to fade. "Is that okay? I've read a little of how Dornish warriors coat their blades in poison and had hoped to do the same…"

' _Well, at least it's not the most poorly thought-out assasination plan I've ever heard,_ ' Margaery acknowledged. She considered that the young woman had been reading about Dornish weapons when her brother's latest gift from Prince Oberyn was a text on the same subject and tried not to laugh.

She failed. A very unladylike snort left her and Margaery blushed to the color of fire. She had never liked the sound of her humor; it was entirely too coarse and yet Lyarra Snow did not even notice.

Or at least she did not form a jape for it (one point). "Is there humor in my request, Lady Margaery?"

"Forgive me, Lady Lyarra, but I had simply considered my other brother. The youngest of my elder brothers, Ser Loras, has the habit of awarding a fully bloomed rose to a beautiful woman at the end of each joust. It seems my other brother has adopted the habit though I think any other lady will take offense to wearing protective gloves merely to accept her gift!"

The two laughed quietly amongst themselves, drawing some attention from the remainder of the table and a brief yet silent altercation as her grandmother swiftly prevented her father from interfering. Willas looked at her forlornly, less an heir and more the sulking child that felt himself hard done by.

"I have heard that rosewater has medicinal values of its own," Lyarra finally remarked.

"Yes, it's a fine method of staunching blood flow for scrapes and such," Margaery informed her.

The two girls, and Margaery knew that Lyarra was close to her own age (one year younger compared to Willas' six), spent the rest of breakfast on the topic of plants and their medicinal values. The baseborn girl excused herself briefly to speak to a friend and then walked down to a table only one setting below, where she had a quick conversation with Samwell Tarly. She did not know much about the boy, than that he was a poor fighter despite being the son of one of the Reach's finest generals. He seemed at ease around the other girl though and unaware of the jealous stares (including from her own poor brother) for having such a lovely conversational partner.

Lyarra returned a few moments later and Margaery quietly debated on the propriety of asking about their conversation. It wasn't all that proper but her brother looked so woefully curious…

Fortunately, the other girl volunteered the information. "I've told Sam that I couldn't make it to our morning practice today and that he was to do so without me. He promised to take a few swings."

"And you believe that he will uphold that promise?" Margaery asked doubtfully. Tarly did not appear the type to relish physical training.

"To the letter," Lyarra smirked, "Two or mayhaps three swings and then he shall escape to the library. I'll make up for the missing work in our next session."

She added a point for the perceptiveness and then one more for not tolerating any foolishness.

The two were soon done with breakfast and rose to their feet, ready to work the food off with a healthy dose of exercise. As they stepped out, her customary guards fell into their place.

"Will Lord Stark not insist on one for yourself?" Margaery asked. Most baseborn children wouldn't have a guardsman, but then most baseborn children weren't brought to the Great Houses and seated at the table of nobility either. Lord Stark appeared to consider Lyarra just as valuable as a trueborn child.

"He only insists on them if I leave the public areas or am in the company of a non-related man."

"I did not see one in the library yesterday."

Lyarra's eyebrow rose and Margaery mentally added a point for catching the information.

"The guards are to protect me from dishonourable men. Lord Willas is every bit proper and gallant."

"Excellent reasoning." Margaery added yet another point, and silently despaired that Lady Lyarra should have the misfortune of her birth. She was beginning to quite like the girl.

x


	12. Star-Crossed 1 (Game of Thrones)

Star-Crossed Wolf

 _Eleven months after Ser Arthur Dayne died at the Tower of Joy, Lord Alleric Dayne's wife births a newborn son. Because the vows of a Kingsguard exist beyond the realms of the dead. fem!Jon, Reincarnated!Arthur, Lyarra x Arthur_

x

"My Prince! The gates of Winterfell are approaching!" One of the leading men sworn to House Martell called, as he rode back to inform the others. He was greeted by expressions of relief and excitement from the mostly Dornish procession, unadapted as they were to the cold and desiring the castle's warmth. The few Northern men leading them, chiefly wearing the green and blue of House Manderly, exchanged looks of amusement as their guest's evident discomfort.

"As grateful as I am for a dragon still living, I do wish Lord Stark had the sense to raise her somewhere else," Prince Oberyn groused from his horse. "It's not natural for snow to fall in the summer."

"Oberyn, do try to keep the treason silent," a dark-haired man hissed beneath his breath.

"Do not worry, my friend. My voice is too soft and their steeds too far, for any words to carry," the Red Viper chuckled. "Do you think we can empty Stark's larder of the good wine before the Usurper arrives?"

"You know as well as I that we cannot." It was a stroke of luck for them that they were arriving as quickly as they were. Luck in the form of the ships that Prince Doran had ordered to carry them and the gaudy, incrementally slow wheelhouse that the Queen insisted on carrying the royals. They would have at least a moon's turn to study the supposed bastard of the honorable Lord Stark before the royal family arrived. That was a curiosity for his companion alone though, for deep in his bones, Lord Arthur Dayne knew that his princess was there.

Ser Arthur Dayne, knight of the Kingsguard and Sword of the Morning, died ten-and-seven years ago at the Tower of Joy. Eleven moons later, after Lord Stark had returned his bones to Starfall, a babe was born to Lord Alleric Dayne, and his wife, Lady Bellaria. The son bore such an uncanny resemblance to his uncle that Lord Alleric was moved to name him 'Arthur', for the brother he had loved so deeply and lost to duty and war.

Arthur Dayne, the firstborn of Lord Alleric, grew up as a clever and happy child. He took to his lessons with startling proficiency, particularly swordsmanship wherein his talent matured even more quickly than his famous uncle's. His father even japed that had he not been present for the birth, he would have believed his brother to be drinking from the legendary Rhoynish springs of youth. It was closer to the truth than any at the time knew, for in many ways, Arthur truly was remembering skills that he had learnt once before.

Not that every lesson came easily for him. A lord's heir and a second son were not guaranteed the same education in measure and many lessons in finance, in politics, in diplomacy, and in management challenged him. Not that his tutors had much to despair over, for there was an uncommon maturity in the heir to Starfall, one that compelled him to devote countless hours to his studies and duties. Lord Alleric had been brimming in pride and even more so, when Lady Bellaria delivered a second son two years later. The fair-haired and violet-eyed Edric was devoted to his older brother and adored in turn by Arthur. The older boy spent many hours in his brother's company, even after their father died at the Greyjoy Rebellion and Arthur became Lord of Starfall at seven namedays. The responsibility had muted some of his youthful cheer and burned a deep dislike of Ironborn in him.

His following days were immersed in the work expected of the Lord of Starfall and studying to be a knight under one of his banner-men. Arthur achieved knighthood less than two years past, at an impressively young age, and gained confidence in his ability to lead his House in the same period. Life had meandered along until two moons past when he welcomed his six-and-tenth nameday with a burning fever. A fever that gifted him with memories of a life that ended nearly a year before his began.

He remembered a woman with golden, sun-kissed skin placing a gentle hand over her swollen womb. A man with silver hair playing a haunting melody on the harp. Another woman with storm grey eyes riding as swiftly as the wind, laughter ringing in the air. Names came to him too. Elia. Rhaegar. Lyanna. He remembered a little girl with luminously dark eyes playing with a black kitten. A rosy-cheeked babe of a few moons waving a pudgy fist in the air. A snow-skinned babe born too early, bathed in blood and wailing loudly in the air. Rhaenys. Aegon. Visenya.

Who were these people that caused his heart to quicken so painfully?

The memories expanded to a life he did not remember and an honor he did not earn. Arthur loved and loathed and loved again as the Kingsguard knight he had never been. He died for an oath he had never sworn.

Then Arthur opened his eyes to a concerned violet gaze and 'brother' came to his tongue for a boy who was not Alleric. Edric was Alleric's son; _he_ was Alleric's son and yet he was not, too, for he was Ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning and Knight of the Kingsguard. It took a heartbeat or ten to gather his surroundings to his brother's room- _his room, he was Lord of Starfall_ \- and to respond to the Maester's inquiry. He spent the day bedridden and trying to decide if he was Ser or Lord, only to come to the conclusion of both. One life he had lived and loved and loathed and when he died, the Seven blessed him to another. He was Arthur Dayne. He had only ever been Arthur Dayne, regardless of which title was bestowed upon him.

And Arthur Dayne had once sworn an oath to his best friend to protect his youngest daughter. A child that his memories as heir to Starfall informed him was likely Lord Stark's bastard. A bastard that had supposedly been born between Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne and conveniently popped up right after the wolf killed him at the base of the Tower of Joy. If that suspicion were true, Visenya Targaryen was alive. She was protected by the actions of her Uncle and Arthur's gratefulness was such that he _almost_ forgave the man for killing him. Almost.

Yes, it had been a war and Arthur would have likely been killed regardless when he refused to bend the knee but that was not the point. And yes, technically speaking, Eddard Stark gave him and his brothers the option of admitting the truth and surrendering thrice but _he_ didn't have a knife stabbed to his back. There was also the small matter of the wolf dishonoring his sister and then marrying a trout. Arthur remembered _that_ well enough.

The next day he sent a raven requesting Prince Oberyn's presence. One would presume that it would be more sensible to approach the calmer, less temperamental Doran but the hotheaded younger prince's love for Princess Elia was key. Arthur sat the man down, launched into a quick explanation about his reincarnation ("I died and the Seven saw fit to bring me back as my brother's firstborn"), and then pressed onwards before the Viper could refute him. Specifically Arthur related the memory of Rhaegar wedding his second wife, Oberyn growing steadily more red in the face until the knight stated that the ceremonial papers were signed by two witnesses: Ser Arthur Dayne and Princess Elia Martell.

"You're lying," Oberyn said helplessly. "You're _lying_ to me."

"I can prove otherwise." Arthur was sympathetic. He knew how the older man sustained himself by his burning hatred of Rhaegar and his 'wolf-bitch'. "You didn't want Rhaegar to marry Elia-"

"Everyone knows that! I raged at my mother for days-"

"You thought he would be unfaithful, so you tested him by taking Rhaegar to a tavern and plying him with ale. You forced six tankards of the strongest spirits you could find and when he was spinning on his feet, you brought out a painted whore. Rhaegar had the presence of mind to reject her and you sulked about it for a sennight."

Oberyn was gaping at him. "How- only Lewyn-"

"And I were there," Arthur finished. "You swore us all to secrecy before Princess Elia could be told."

He continued to relate his memories, particularly of when he was a child trying to tag along on the adventures of his older brother and the prince. Eventually the Viper admitted his belief and Arthur related his involvement the war. The mention of a fledgling plan to spirit out the royal children from King's Landing before Aerys' madness could take them caused the man to go still.

"Are you saying that my nephew and niece could be alive?"

There was so much hope in those eyes that a part of Arthur's heart broke when he shook his head. "I do not know, my Prince. The last letter we received from the capital said that another babe of Aegon's colouring had been found but that they were still looking for another for Rhaenys. I don't know if the plan was ever executed."

"His head was smashed in… no one would know the difference… if there's even the slightest chance…"

"Then it would be in the hands of Jon Connington. He was the one Rhaegar entrusted their safety to and if nothing else, his loyalty to Rhaegar and his children is commendable."

"So Elia's children received their father's admirer while _Lyanna Stark_ and her daughter received three members of the Kingsguard." The Viper's tone dripped with poison.

"The atrocity at King's Landing was beyond what anyone could have ever imagined," Arthur stated flatly. "There are four options for the throne, my Prince. Viserys is Aerys' son-"

"A beggar grown as mad as his father. I would rather put the Stark's daughter on the throne."

"Yes, a second option would be Visenya, provided that her elder brother is not found. If he is, then House Dayne and, I hope, House Martell would support Aegon's claim."

"A son of Elia's will always have our support," Oberyn stated fiercely.

"And the fourth, with the least claim to the throne, is Daenerys Targaryen," Arthur finished. "One in the North, two wandering the Free Cities, and the fourth- I believe- is in Essos too. Jon had extensive contacts in Essos from his time as King's Hand and he speaks Valyrian fluently. He would move Aegon around often to limit exposure to him and there is also his extensive seafaring ability to consider…"

"I find myself with a desire to travel the ports of Essos then!" Oberyn's eyes lit up. "Come Lord Dayne. I believe my brother would care to have an audience with you."

The meeting with Prince Doran was even more nerve-wracking than the one with Oberyn but it also went well. Mostly. It ended with Arthur sitting very, _very_ still on his seat while Doran calmly refused Oberyn's request to search the Free City ports. His arguments, that the Viper was too well-known, that whomever had arranged Aegon's potential hiding hadn't approached them for some unknown reason and should therefore not be tipped off, that the Usurper might take notice, and that a known dragon in hand was more valuable at the moment were all sound arguments. The last was underlined by the Prince's spies reporting that Baratheon planned to go north and make his old friend, Hand.

"Such a loyal dog the Usurper has," Doran mused, "Guarding dragonspawn in the heart of the north."

The last had spurred Arthur into echoing the prince's sentiments and receiving a glare from Oberyn for his troubles. Eventually it was decided that Lord Arthur Dayne, desiring to meet his bastard cousin for the first time, would travel north to do so. Arthur would be accompanied by Prince Oberyn and his Paramour Ellaria Sand, who enjoyed travelling to exotic locales and could represent Doran for renegotiating the next year's taxes. They were to ascertain the true identity of Lyarra Snow and, if possible, make every attempt to bring her south to Dorne.

For this, Doran arranged a ship to carry them north and trusted men to discretely survey the Free City ports. Dorne was the main point of trade between Essos and Westeros after all and many of his spies worked on ships. He also dispatched a letter to Lord Stark that, due to 'unfortunate circumstances', would arrive a few days preceding their visit, thus not allowing the man time to refuse. Finally, after taking Arthur aside and promising that no harm would come to Elia's stepdaughter- "We don't hurt little girls in Dorne"- they were sent off.

' _And now I may protect my princess at last. Wait for me, Visenya Targaryen. I will be there soon.'_


	13. Star-Crossed 2 (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Two

Lord Eddard Stark was the most nervous person in the courtyard this afternoon. One would think that the honor would belong to his bastard daughter, Lyarra Snow, who was smoothing down the front of her dress for perhaps the fifteenth time but they would be wrong. Lyarra was nervous about meeting a member of her mother's house for the first time certainly but that was precisely the problem.

Lord Eddard had received the messenger bearing Lord Doran's letter this morning and hadn't yet been able to inform his _daughter_ about the truth. He had just arrived from settling a dispute between two bannermen when the letter was presented to him by his incensed lady wife. Catelyn had informed him point-blank that she would not be arranging a welcome for the Dornishmen before storming off. Ned made a mental note to try and appease her later after this issue was handled.

Ned Stark had never claimed to have a daughter with Ashara Dayne. A child was born between them but had died in infancy, before he had even the chance to meet her. However, his bannermen took into account his previous dalliance with the most beautiful woman in court, his bastard daughter's fine features and violet gaze (inherited primarily though her pretty boy father) and his trip to Dorne and arrived at the wrong conclusion. A lie that Ned had never bothered to refute due to its convenience and one that Lord Alleric had left alone out of respect for his brother's sacrifice. The former lord had known that Lyarra was not his niece but it seemed that his son hadn't been told.

Now Lord Stark was simultaneously worried and ashamed. The former was due to his fear that Lord Arthur Dayne, named for his uncle and already gathering a reputation as a skilled swordsman, would discover his deadly secret. The latter was due to giving false hope to both parties that a daughter of Ashara Dayne's still lived. The shame didn't prevent him from hoping that the illusion held though; regardless of the circumstances, he couldn't allow Lyanna's daughter to be found out.

Said niece was conversing quietly to her sister now. Due to Catelyn's declaration, the only members of the family ready to greet the Dornish party were himself, Lyarra, and, somehow managing to escape the thumb of her Septa, Arya.

"Your hair is covered in dust, Arya," the elder girl whispered. She tried to brush the dust off of her sister's hair. They fell like pale gold stars from the Stark's dark brown hair. Had it been in Lyarra's own thick curls, she would have needed a thorough washing.

"I had to use one of our secret passages to escape the old bat," Arya whispered back. Catching his eye, she attempted to straighten herself out. "Er, I mean, that I fell. On a broom. A dusty broom."

"We shall speak of this later," Ned stated. Despite the admonishment, Arya merely smiled wanly and fell beside her older sister. She reached out a hand to grab Lyarra's own, Stark features molding into as stern an expression as his young wolf was capable of. As her father, Ned could see the evident signs of distress in her posture and her reluctance to meet another family with a claim to Lyarra.

' _If I have given her nothing else, Lyanna, then I have this,'_ Ned thought _. 'Our daughters love one another as only sisters can. I hope that can bring you some peace in the afterlife.'_

They did not have to wait for long before the small host of Dornishmen and a few Manderly knights approached the castle gates. He could see Ser Wendel at the front and beside him, a handsome man with deeply tanned skin, a dark goatee and a mischievous smirk. That would be Prince Oberyn Martell then, the infamous Red Viper of Dorne. Slightly behind them and next to a sigil-man holding a familiar sword and star on a lavender background was a figure straight from the mists of the past.

' _He is undoubtedly Lord Arthur Dayne.'_

The handsome boy, for he was a boy at six-and-ten, even younger than Robb, strongly resembled his famous uncle. He was tall and slender, dark of hair and eye, with sharp cheekbones, heavy brows and a hawkish nose. His light set of armor, while not the silver of the Kingsguard, was paler than the norm and added greater consequence to his person. A heavy cloak dyed deep violet covered the armor and hinted at the wealth of his House. He rode his horse with an ease born of experience and Ned had no doubt that the sword by his side was Dawn.

In short, Lord Arthur made a striking image and one glimpse at his typically composed eldest daughter showed that even the sensible Lyarra was struck by the sight. If she was this discomposed, then he didn't even want to consider how Sansa would react. The protective father in him was even more riled by how Lyarra's gaze was being returned; Lord Dayne was staring at the rosy-cheeked girl with a silent infatuation that was visible for all to see.

Ned stepped forward as the men began to ride through the gate. He angled his body slightly to cover Lyarra's form, gratified when Lord Dayne finally pulled his gaze away and cleared his throat.

"Prince Oberyn, Lord Dayne, Ser Wyman. I welcome you all to Winterfell."

x

Arthur kept one ear on Oberyn's conversation while studying the walls before them. Winterfell was a castle that emanated history and power; the legendary Bran the Builder had designed it to stand against the heart of winter itself. The people living in the castle were the archetypes of their home: proud, stern, honorable and unyielding, as he remembered Lord Eddard to be. The man was standing at the forefront of the courtyard now but his eyes were fastened to the slip of a girl present.

Visenya Targaryen was the spitting image of Lyanna Stark, made even more attractive by her Valyrian heritage. Where Lyanna's oval face was pale, Visenya's was as fair as the freshly fallen snow. Where Lyanna's features had a pleasing symmetry to them, Visenya's were delicate and ethereal. Where Lyanna's figure was slim and could possibly be called boyish (as Ser Oswell has once unfortunately voiced), Visenya's was already molded into a womanly shape. She had evidently inherited Queen Rhaella's traits in that regard, along with those breathtakingly beautiful violet eyes. Rhaegar had been able to persuade almost anyone to do almost anything with those eyes alone.

Visenya's gaze met his own and Arthur tried to put his best foot forward with a friendly smile. She didn't return it but he attributed that lapse to the pink flush rising in her cheeks. The Dayne knight inwardly frowned as he catalogued her lack of warm cloak. She must be quite cold out here. Had Ned not the sense to outfit the girl properly if she was to be waiting reception on them?

The man currently the focus of his ire stepped forward and Arthur turned a displeased gaze on him. He was startled to receive an equally irritated one. ' _What does_ he _have to be angry about? I'm not the one that brought Visenya out to a snow-filled courtyard improperly attired._ '

His bow was worthy of the most fastidious courtiers. "Thank you for welcoming us to your home."

Lord Stark gave him a terse nod in response and he fell silent, his part in the upcoming courtesies complete. Prince Oberyn, a man who was his elder by age if not necessarily maturity, engaged the man next, discussing the details of their stay and thanking him for the hospitality offered to the party. Arthur quietly eyed the cloakless girls, his unguarded stare drawing the eldest dark-haired one to meet his gaze with a perplexed look.

Knowing that it was inappropriate to offer but not willing to let Rhaegar's little girl suffer the cold any longer, Arthur unfastened his cloak. "My lady, may I offer you my cloak? It is a little chilly outside."

Those familiar eyes widened. "Thank you, my lord but I am fine. And… you need not call me lady."

"It would not be for long," he answered earnestly, undaunted by the rejection. Rhaegar had been too prideful to voice his discomfort too. A red flush infused her cheeks and he worried that she would catch a cold for this hubris. "Please take this cloak, my lady. You are dressed in merely a gown with snow under your feet."

"My _sister_ is fine, Lord Dayne," the younger girl interrupted. "She is a Stark of Winterfell and we can handle a little snow on the ground."

"If you are certain," Arthur answered doubtfully. He hadn't a chance to press further as Ned moved away from Oberyn and invited them inside in a clipped tone. The Dayne passed his horse, a loyal chestnut steed named Starburst for the shock of white on his forehead, over to his manservant, Willian, and followed.

He took the opportunity to fall into step beside Visenya. "I am Lord Arthur Dayne of Starfall."

"Lyarra Snow," she replied, eyes flickering over uncertainly, "Of Winterfell."

"And I'm Arya Stark, Lyarra's _sister_ ," the other girl piped up.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, particularly you, Lyarra. I'm not certain if you know this but we are kin." He wasn't comfortable with implying that she was his sister, Ashara's, daughter but knew it a necessary evil at the time. Though, in a manner of speaking, they were very distant kin byway of Lady Dyanna Dayne, wife of King Maeker I and Rhaegar's great-great-grandmother.

Visenya nodded once, evidently unsure how to continue the conversation. Her younger cousin had no such doubts. "Is that why you're here then? To take Lyarra back to Dorne with you?"

"I merely intended to get to know her better. Though should she ever visit Dorne, I would be pleased to host her in Starfall and introduce her to the wonders of my ancestral home. That offer is extended to you as well."

"Yeah, well," Arya floundered at the kindness. "Are you really a knight?"

"I am. I have been for two years now."

"He is a rather good one too, I admit," Ser Wyman interjected, with a chagrined expression. "Thought to join his practice sessions on the road and left the morning with more bruises than I could count."

"He has the Sword of the Morning's talent certainly," Oberyn added slyly. "My daughters are all envious of his skill with a blade."

"Your daughters know how to fight?" Arya switched her attention to the Prince of Dorne.

Oberyn's smile grew softer at the mention of his daughters. If nothing else, he was a devoted father to them. "They do. My eldest daughter is proficient in the spear, as I am, and my other two practice with a whip and daggers respectively. The others are all too young to decide on a primary weapon."

"Lyarra has studied the sword, bow and lance but she's most skilled with the first one," Arya reported proudly. "I haven't been able to join the lessons yet though."

"With your father's permission, I would not mind showing you a little of the blade while I am here."

The Dayne's offer was met with a conflicted expression by the she-wolf. While Arya Stark seemed determined to dislike him for some reason, the offer of lessons by a true knight was difficult to refuse. She relayed the offer posthaste to her father and received a measured nod in response.

Arya turned to smile brightly at him. Arthur was almost taken aback by how familiar that expression was. It looked eerily familiar to Lyanna Stark's when the Kingsguard had been convinced to escort her to a brief ride on the lands surrounding the Tower of Joy.

"I suppose you're not that bad after all," the mist-eyed girl said. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Dayne."

x


	14. Bijuu's Pregorative 1 (Naruto)

Bijuu's Prerogative

 _Dying is a lot harder to do when your lover is a nine-tailed demon fox that can bend the fabric of space and time to save you. KyuNaru and Naruto x Shion, sort of a threesome_

x

 _The blade was still plunged through his chest,_ Naruto realized distractedly. _It had broken through his ribs- a rather impressive way to kill him, even if maneuvering through his sides would have been easier…_

 _Dying,_ Naruto thought, the fuzzy black edges of his vision closing around his irises, _Oh Kami, he was dying, wasn't he? He had never come this close before. Not since Sasuke sent a Chidori through his chest._

 _Sasuke… Sasuke was dead too, wasn't he? Naruto had been forced to put the Last Uchiha down like a rabid dog... Sakura had never forgiven him, but she was dead, too… and so was everyone else, except Kurama…_

 _Kurama… where was he… Naruto wanted to say goodbye…_

As the bloodied young man fell closer to the ground, eyes slowly closing, a loud roar ripped through the ground. It was cruel, and furious, and desperate, as a flash of red chakra enveloped Naruto for the last time.

x

By the time Naruto was fifteen, he had developed a twitchy sort of fury at the suddenness of an alarm clock- not unlike many of his comrades at ANBU. Therefore, it should have been expected that once this one went off in his apartment, it would received a wind-chakra laced kunai through its delicate workings.

What Naruto had _not_ expected, once he had jumped off of his bed that is- a bed?! That revelation had the blonde pausing, stunned, at the small, messy child's bed laying below a large, sunny window. Not only was the size far too small for someone of Naruto's height, but as far as he knew, the Resistance didn't _have_ any more comforts like beds.

"What the fuck?" Naruto asked aloud, still in the state of marveling over this bed.

The high-pitched adolescent sound of his own voice, only drew him back even further. With the fox-like reflexes Naruto had often been teased over, he looked around the room he was in. A bit small, cluttered with dirty neon clothing _(this person really needs to get a hamper,_ he thought briefly), an old set of dented kunai, a pile of books, and a chair to the side.

No one else was present, except for himself. With that in mind, Naruto looked down on his body, and gave a- very manly- shriek.

He had fucking well shrunk! His hands were smaller, softer, with only the beginnings of the calluses that he would develop later on. A bright orange jumpsuit covered a short body of only 5'2. Placing his fingers against his face, Naruto could feel the light uprisings of his whisker marks. Well, that ruled out genjutsu.

It was a little known fact that while a jinchuuriki was trapped in a genjutsu, the chakra laden marks of their bijuu would be disrupted and would emit a sliver of demonic energy. For Naruto, it was his whisker marks, for Gaara, the dark circles around his eyes, and for Fu, her rare orange coloured irises. Han had the most annoying trait out of all of them, with poisonous steam emitting from his body at all times.

Once Naruto had accidentally discovered this odd quirk of their Bijuu, Han had almost crushed him in his joy to finally be able to touch another human being. The jinchuuriki of Kokuo had placed a minor self-induced genjutsu on himself before hesitantly reaching for his brother, Roshi's, hand. He had only gone so far as to interact with the other jinchuuriki, Naruto remembered fondly, but just seeing the reserved man slowly come out of his armour- both figuratively and literally- had bolstered the eight 'human sacrifices' spirits.

Fu was another one of those jinchuuriki who only felt comfortable with her "kind", never mind the fact that they were all human. She had latched on to him like a limpet since they had first met, and the only person more determined to heal Fu than Naruto himself, was Yugito. One day, she had claimed that it was a "girl's bonding" night, and then kicked all of the male jinchuuriki out of their shared quarters. Fu had tried to sneak out in Gaara's gourd but the young Kazekage had no intention to humor the girl when he, himself, would have to sleep out in the rain for the night.

Utakata had tried to repeat the incident with a "male bonding" night a few weeks later on, but it turned out that Yugito- being the container of the Nibi CAT- hated rain even more than Gaara. After she nearly beat Utakata to death, it was wisely decided by the males that they were more than sufficiently bonded as it was.

With a sheepish smile, Naruto broke himself free of his memories, and regarded the room with decidedly mischievous eyes. Being extremely adaptable, once Naruto had ruled out genjutsu, the idea of "time travel" was relatively easy to accept. After all, hadn't Kurama mentioned this tactic to him once in one of their late night talks…?

Kurama! Naruto shifted guiltily, he had forgotten all about his Bijuu since he had gotten here. Lifting his shirt, Naruto channelled in a little chakra to his stomach, and barely kept himself from whooping in joy when the seal appeared. Grinning even more widely now, Naruto plopped down on the ground, and began to meditate.

It took a little longer than usual, but Naruto soon found himself in the sewer room that used to be Kurama's jail cell. Crinkling his nose distastefully, Naruto made his way over to where he remembered the bar cells were to be. For each step that he took towards his friend, his confidence dimmed slightly.

Would Kurama remember him? Would the entity that he considered his most precious person hate him all over again? If he did, Naruto determined, than he would just have to prove himself worthy again and again, if need be. Kurama was more than worth it.

" _ **So my foolish human cage decides to grace me with his presence,"**_ a cold, darkly amused voice said, as Naruto came within sight of the cell. The boy's heart plummeted as malevolent red eyes regarded him furiously from the humongous beast that laid before him.

" _ **Lost for words, boy?"**_ the fox sneered, as Naruto failed to speak, " _ **Then I suppose you will be unable to have a final wish! I had planned to torture you for my imprisonment, but I am capable of mercy. For opening my cage, I shall grant you a swift death!"**_

Then, to Naruto's shock, the fox pounced through the cage, the bars passing through his body as though they were mere illusion, and red-gold chakra enveloping its dark red fur like a second skin. The blond had closed his eyes, waiting for death, and so was unable to see the huge fox's form changing and growing smaller until…

"Oof!" Naruto gasped, as he was bowled over by a slender, human-shaped, _naked_ form. The boy's arms automatically wrapped itself around the wiggling body pressed against his chest, as his mouth opened and closed without a word escaping his lips. The figure before him had delicate, almost feminine, beauty with wine red hair even darker than Gaara's and golden eyes with flecks of red scattered throughout. It was only when he saw the glint of mischief in those achingly familiar eyes, that Naruto spoke.

"Kurama?" he asked, pushing himself up, but refusing to let go of the other boy, "I- You're… did _you_ do this?"

The boy grinned- insufferably smug as usual, Naruto noted with exasperated affection- as he wriggled his body into a more comfortable position.

"Who else would have enough power to change the very fabric of space and time?" he bragged, "One of my more impressive feats, I admit-"

The self-declared praise was cut short as Naruto took the chance to cover Kurama's mouth with his own. The chakra entity eagerly returned the kiss, pressing himself, if possible, even closer to Naruto's body, as he tugged on the blonde's locks of hair. The boy moved his mouth away when he had become pressed for air, much to Kurama's clear irritation, before Naruto turned to pressing open-mouthed kisses across his neck and shoulder.

"You are absolutely _brilliant,_ " Naruto gasped out, between applying his kisses, "A _Shiki Fuujin_ \- Kurama that was incredible- and risky…"

The blonde paused, and moved his head away from the red-faced Kurama, as he frowned. "Kurama," Naruto said softly, "The Shiki Fuujin in a one-time deal. Even a Bijuu like you wouldn't survive if you couldn't channel that much divine energy. If it had gone wrong…"

The Bijuu gave him a look that was a cross between shame and defiance, "It _didn't_ go wrong."

Naruto growled. "That's not the point," he shouted, springing to his feet, and releasing the chagrined demon. "You _could have died_. Actually died, Kurama! I know you're used to your immortality, but that wouldn't have saved you! A demon channeling divine energy? And if that demon was the nine-tailed fox... Are you insane?"

The fox looked even more embarrassed yet determined, as he also sprang to his feet. "You died!" Kurama shouted at him, "You promised that you wouldn't leave, and _then you did_!"

"That doesn't matter!" Naruto replied angrily, "You would have still been alive!"

"It does to me," the golden-eyed boy claimed softly, looking down, "I'd have been alone. Shion nearly killed herself too after you'd been kidnapped. The pressure made the baby arrive early. She- I- it was a stillborn."

Naruto stopped cold, his hands falling down to his sides uselessly. "A stillborn," he repeated, swallowing, "I- oh Kami, Kurama, I'm so sorry."

"You _should_ be," Kurama hissed, still furious, "Going into that fight even when you knew it was an ambush! I warned you! Shion _begged_ you not to go! But, you had to be that perfect Rokudaime Hokage, didn't you? Despite the fact that Konoha was _gone_ , everyone had _died_ -"

Kurama's voice tapered off slightly, and he launched himself back into Naruto's arms. The fox was still so unused to the experiences of human emotion. For all his brilliance or power or experience, he was still merely a child in terms of emotion, not a bit unlike Kakashi really. The only person he had really ever been close to was Naruto, and then slowly began to interact with each of his siblings and their Hosts. He had even become somewhat fond of Shion in his own way, especially after she had purified some of the demonic energy out of him, leaving him with the golden eyes his father- the Sage of the Six Paths- had first given him.

His relationship with Shion was probably because of their shared understanding. Unlike those irritatingly weak kunoichi like Hinata Hyuuga, Shion was perfectly aware that Naruto belonged to Kurama, and that her relationship with the blond would be something of a business arrangement between two close friends. Her willingness to have the Kyuubi's chakra infused into her womb where, thanks to her own divine chakra, it would be purified and integrated into the baby, had earned her the status of a friend to the fox. Despite their odd arrangement though, there was no doubt that Shion was a cherished member of the small Uzumaki family.

Still, when Kurama wanted to be comforted- which was very, _very_ rarely- he went to Naruto.

"A girl," the redhead said quietly, his face buried into Naruto's neck, "She had dark red hair and Shion's light grey eyes. She had wanted to name the baby Kushina before…"

Naruto's arms closed around him tightly. The blond felt a deep, suffocating sorrow within him. Sorrow for all that could have been and should have been, and anger for all that was taken away from him- from _them_ \- and also a rising determination.

"I'm sorry," Naruto whispered, quietly vowing to one day see his baby girl grow up happy and safe, "I'm so, so sorry. That will never happen again. I promise."

Kurama nodded jerkily, and moved away a little, "I know."

The two stayed silent for a few minutes, each grieving what they had both lost, before Kurama shook his head slightly, and smiled.

"Now, what do you think of my new body?" Kurama asked, hands held out to gesture towards himself. Naruto blinked, looked at him, and then abruptly turned away.

"Kurama, you're not wearing any clothes!" the blonde loudly deduced.

The fox looked nonplussed, "Well yeah… what's the point? Don't you like me better this way?"

The blonde twitched, "Humans wear clothing, Kyu." Naruto had forgotten how difficult it was to deal with the fox's lack of morals or modesty.

Most of the time, his knowledge of human customs and general disposition made people forget that he was technically a genderless chakra entity without anything approaching real ethics. The closest Kurama had gotten towards human feelings were his undeveloped fox instincts that prioritized protecting his mate and family over everything else. Which, incidentally, might have been another factor that explained how easily he had come to accept Shion after her unborn child became suffused with Kyuubi's chakra.

"For protection against nature," Kyuubi said, dismissively, "I am incapable of feeling temperature and do not need to be protected against natural forces. I shall be fine."

Naruto twitched again, "That's not really my point. It's just… er, we're not really old enough to… ah, mate, and seeing you without clothes isn't helping my developed mind much."

"You're still a kit," Kurama looked genuinely surprised and displeased by that revelation, "Ah, I had forgotten that small tidbit. You can't mate until you go through that puberty process, can you? I really should have thought this through."

A blushing Naruto nodded, and a snap of Kurama's fingers had him dressed in a miniature form of his clothing from the future. A brown and gold tunic, leggings of a darker brown, and a thin sash of wine red wrapped around his right forearm.

"We'll have to discuss what we'll do to change the timeline now," Naruto said, frowning, once Kurama had clothed himself, "We're the only ones who know how badly-"

"Shion came along," Kurama interrupted. When Naruto jerked back in surprise, he smiled sheepishly. "She insisted that she be part of the ritual."

"Well then, where is she now?" Naruto asked, looking around the sewers as though Kurama had hidden her away in his mind somewhere.

The fox shrugged, "In her old body, I suppose. She said something about wanting to change her mother's future."

Naruto recalled one of many conversations he and Shion had, and smiled, "That's good for her. She had been devastated by her mother's death before."

The blonde's eyes focused back on the demonic entity and he thought aloud, "I don't suppose we could tell the Hokage...? Beyond the fact that we'd have to prove ourselves, I don't think he'll take to you very well. And we'll have to contact Shino again... and reform the Uzumaki Clan. Do you think I could get into contact with Karin?"

"The redhaired girl with the glasses?" Kurama questioned, "Why would you want her?"

"She's my cousin," Naruto reminded him, "She isn't an evil person. She just used to work with Orochimaru and Sasuke. If I contact her in the Chuunin Exams before Sasuke has a chance to save her, than she'll probably be loyal to her Clan Head instead. It helps that she was only a Kusa genin before; we can probably make a case for extraction and assimilation."

"Do you intend to kill that snake bastard during the Invasion this time around?" Kurama asked. Naruto's eyes lit up, and a wicked grin crossed his face.

"Even if I didn't change anything else about this time, just killing Oro-teme would have made all this work worth it," Naruto rubbed his hands together eagerly, eerily resembling the child he was supposed to be as if he was planning a particularly vindictive prank.

"What else do you want to do?" Kurama inquired, back to using Naruto as a glorified cushion.

"Getting stronger than I am now is a definite requirement," Naruto grimaced, gesturing towards his young, undeveloped body, "Getting into contact with the jinchuuriki, convincing Tsunade to come back, possibly befriending Danzo-"

"-Killing Sasuke Uchiha," Kurama interjected, receiving a nod in return.

"And his banshee cheerleader," Naruto agreed, "The girl died so quickly in her shinobi career that it wasn't even funny. To be fair, I'd probably have been more sympathetic if she hadn't nearly dragged Kakashi and me along with her."

"I'm glad we have an idea of what we're going to do, then," Kurama said, reluctantly standing up, and stretching. The far too mentally developed blond tracked his movements with a keen eye, and then shook his head to prevent himself from getting distracted.

"You should get back to the real world," Kurama informed him, "Some time has already passed since we entered your mindscape, and you need training. I refuse to have a weak Host, or more importantly, a weak Mate."

"Your wish is my command," Naruto grinned, and then closed his eyes.

A minute later, he had returned to his bedroom, and Kurama's sewer had transformed into a wooded glen filled with serpentine brooks and sunny clearings perfect for a midday nap. The seal now took the form of a collar around the fox's neck, allowing him to move throughout the mindscape.

The blonde looked down at his clothing, and resisted the urge to gag. How on Earth could he have been so stupid as to wear neon orange clothing as a ninja? Actually, it was probably better not to answer that, he reflected, as he looked through his closet for some proper clothes. A black T-shirt with the red Uzumaki spiral, a dark blue wifebeater, and dark blue pants were his final choices. Strapping his kunai and shuriken pouch to his thigh,- he would really have to refill that later- Naruto looked at the calendar to see what time Kurama had dropped him in.

It was the day right before team placements, Naruto realized, which meant that he had already fought Mizuki and... aha, there was his headband! Rather than tie it in the classical position on his forehead, where it would make his hair even spikier than normal, Naruto wrapped it around his forearm. Naruto even took the time to brush down his hair. He would have to remember to grow it out later, since that would emphasize his relation to his father.

After he- or rather Kurama from the mental link he had formed with the fox- had deemed himself presentable, the blonde stepped outside , and headed to the Hokage Tower. Thanks to his long familiarity with the leader of the Hidden Leaf, he didn't need to bother with such pesky things as appointments or secretaries, as he sidestepped the most recent one, and walked into the office.

"Jiji!" Naruto declared, making his presence known as he walked up to the Hokage's desk.

The Sandaime looked up at him, and smiled warmly, "Hello Naruto-kun, what brings you here today?"

"I have come here to beg, jiji," Naruto answered, before flopping unceremoniously on one of the gestured chairs. The slight rise of the Hokage's eyebrow indicated his surprise.

"Oh? And what are you here to beg about, Naruto?" Sarutobi asked, amused.

"I wanted to figure out what teammates I was going to be stuck with, so I- ah, hypothetically stumbled across some loud mouthed Chunin," Naruto improvised, "Said hypothetical Chunin may have implied that team tradition means that the lowest ranked student is paired with the two top ranked ones. Imagine my surprise, hypothetical of course, when I realized that despite my A-rank jutsu, Kage Bunshin, I was ranked the lowest in my class, and therefore, have to pair up with an Emo and a Banshee."

He paused, and affixed the man with a hurtful look, "Naturally, I knew that my wonderful, kind, beloved jiji wouldn't inflict that kind of torture on to me, but- and this is in spite of my unwavering faith in your compassion- my more diabolical nature has urged me to arrive here and get a confirmation of my belief. Incidentally, had this all not been hypothetical, I would have admitted to having practiced this speech beforehand."

The Sandaime Hokage only began to laugh, "Oh, Naruto-kun, you never cease to surprise me. However, you can't expect me to confirm or deny those beliefs of years. As the reigning Hokage of the Village, I can't just throw away years of tradition and precedents to satisfy your idle curiosity."

He leaned closer and conspiratorily lowered his voice, "Of course, your hypothetical teammates are in fact Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno."

Naruto groaned, not entirely faking it. "Jiji, you can't do this to me! He's a bastard and she's a weakling and- who's our sensei, anyway? It's not going to be Hatake, is it?"

"Good to know that my Chuunin aren't revealing everything then," the Sandaime muttered sarcastically, "Yes, Naruto, Kakashi will be your sensei. Do you know anything about him?"

"I know that he failed the last six teams that you gave him because he has an issue with taking on children," Naruto pointed out, "Is there any reason why I got stuck with the sensei with a guarantee failure rate, jiji? I thought it might be because of- well, you know- but then I learned that Teme was on the same team, and I doubt they'd kick him out of the ninja program."

The old man winced, "Naruto I assure you that you were not given to Kakashi because of your burden. In fact, he specifically requested you for his team. I have a feeling that his failure rate is going to change."

The blonde was not impressed. "I've never met this guy before, and my Academy files say I'm a truant deadlast and yet Copycat Kakashi wants me for his team? ...This has to do with _him_ , doesn't it?"

Sarutobi took in Naruto's dissatisfied expression and sighed again, this time with a little regret. "Naruto-kun, I promise you that Kakashi didn't want you because of the Kyuubi."

"No, not the Kyuubi, I meant _him,_ " Naruto waved his hand, stressing on the last word, "You know, my father?"

Had the Sandaime's pipe been in his mouth, then he would have spit it out in shock and horror. Trying to find the limits of his honorary grandson's knowledge, he ventured forth, "What do you mean by your father, Naruto-kun?"

"My father," Naruto said slowly, frowning, "The pretty boy who stuck a demon in his kid? Minato Namikaze?"

The Hokage's first reaction may have understated the severity of that statement, "You shouldn't disparage his looks, Naruto-kun, since you look exactly like him."

"I do not!" the genin was clearly offended by such a comparison to the greatest ninja Konoha had ever produced, "My colouring may be the same, but I favor my Uzumaki heritage. I have my mom's chin, nose, and bone structure. Not to mention her personality."

"That's true," Hiruzen acknowledged, with a small, regretful smile, "How did you find out about this information, my boy?"

"Well, somewhere in between my sixth and seventh major prank, I realized that the ANBU never catch me when I'm running away from them," Naruto began, "I know that I'm completely awesome jiji, but these ninja are supposed to be the best of the best. They've trained for years to gain their skills and they can't catch a random Academy student to drag him into the civilian courts? That was just too unlikely."

"I tried to think about why they might keep letting me go, and my first reaction was to think that you told them to do it. To prove my point, I decided to turn my pranks on you," the Hokage shuddered as he remembered that week of all-encompassing horror, "But the ANBU were still letting me go, even after I burned your entire porn collection. So I decided to move on my next conclusion, they were letting me get away because they liked me. Only, I've never met of the ANBU, and random snacks kept popping up in my kitchen, so I decided that while they indulged me, they didn't do it because of me."

"I realized that the ANBU- and honestly most higher level ninja like the Clan Heads- treated me a little like the civilian population treated Teme. Since they only like the bastard cause he's an Uchiha, I figured that they only liked me, because of my parents. Most of the people who were nice to me were high-level ninja or retired ninja, so it had to be someone powerful. Then, I tried to prove that I was the bastard child of Yamanaka Inoichi, but Ino ratted me out to her father, and he ended up sitting me down and explaining very nicely that he had never had an extramarital affair, that I didn't have the Yamanaka shade of blonde, and could I please maybe not mention this to his wife?"

Over at the corner, one of the blatantly eavesdropping ANBU guards- Yamanaka Hiroshi- snorted.

"My next conclusion was that I was the bastard child of Tsunade Senju, which only got stronger once I realized that her grandmother was an Uzumaki and her brother looked just like me," Naruto paused in his chronicling, as Sarutobi listened, impressed by the boy's initiative and resourcefulness, "So I decided to prove my point by sneaking into the Uchiha Clan, but the Teme's mom ended up giving me a lollipop. I was all set to give up before I realized that I could have been the child of a famous person instead of a famous clan- though by then, I knew about the Uzumaki Clan and knew that I was descended from them- so I checked the history books for famous ninja with civilian backgrounds. I found three, and the only blonde one was Minato Namikaze."

"If you know who your father is, then why wouldn't you want Kakashi Hatake to be your sensei?" Sarutobi asked, "He would treat you well, and be happy to teach you."

"Because of the bastard who became my father?" Naruto scoffed, "No thanks, I'd rather be liked because of my own accomplishments. This is why I never told anyone who my parents were."

"I can't say I don't understand your reasons," the Hokage's expression only showed just how old he had become, "Do you really hate your father so much, Naruto?"

"...I resent him for giving up his life to seal the Kyuubi away," the boy finally said, "I read about other jinchuuriki, and since they could be sealed away without taking the life of the sealer, I knew that other options were open to him. At the same time… I got into contact with the Kyuubi once-"

He saw the Sandaime's face quickly morph into worry, and hurriedly reassured the old man, "The seal is still going strong! I just saw the last few minutes of my father's life… Do you know what his last words were? They were: ' _Naruto… This is your dad. Listen… to your motor-mouth mother._ '"

The young boy lowered his face in a hopeless attempt to hide the tears gathering in his eyes. The Sandaime lowered his face as well, sharing in the sorrow for the remarkable young man who had died too young for his time.

"He thought that I would have had at least one parent," Naruto whispered, "He never knew that Mom had died just a few minutes earlier. I still resent him for making me a jinchuuriki and leaving me an orphan, but how can I be mad at him? He gave up his _soul_ to give me the best protection from a tailed beast that it was possible to give, and he did it with the understanding that at least Mom would be there to look after me. I- he loved me I think-"

"He did love you," Sarutobi interrupted, his voice firm and reassuring, "Naruto… you have no idea how much pride and joy you brought him before you were even born. The day he learned that he was going to be a father was the happiest day of his life. It damn near killed him not to be able to tell anyone who would listen and everyone who wouldn't about your birth. If we weren't at war, I have no doubt that he would have shouted the news from the rooftops."

Naruto listened to those words and smiled, "Thank you, jiji."

"You shouldn't be," the Hokage said sadly, "I may have done it for your own protection, but that doesn't erase the pain you must have felt for not knowing your parent's identity. I'm surprised that you're not shouting at me right now."

"I was mad with you at first," Naruto admitted, and in truth he truly had been furious when he found out his parent's identity for the first time. But at that time, the Sandaime was dead, and he could only release his pent-up frustration at the surrounding trees and mountains. In the end, he had fallen to the ground in bitter tears and cried his pain out.

Since then, he had made peace with his past, and while he still wished the Sandaime had done things differently, Naruto missed the old man too much to mar what could be their last few precious months before the Sandaime died. Though, if he had his way, Orochimaru would get his ass kick six ways till Sunday, and the Old Man could have a peaceful death in bed with Konohamaru chattering into his ear until the very end.

"I guess that it's been long enough for me to mostly get over it," Naruto said, grinning at the Hokage, "I'm still a little conflicted over being the Yondaime's only son, but I'm not going to blame you for it. But jiji…"

The Hokage sensed the blonde boy's uncharacteristic hesitation, and motioned for him to continue.

Naruto spoke quickly, before he lost his nerve. "I know that you're really busy and all, but I think you must have known at least one of my parents and- I don't really know much about them- so maybe you could tell me some stories? If you have any time for it, of course."

Sarutobi looked at the anxious boy, and privately thought that for all Naruto wanted to be seen only through Kushina's genes, he had more than just a few of Minato's traits. He could easily see himself passing on the torch for the will of fire to this bright, energetic, and kind boy, just like he had done long before for the boy's father.

' _Naruto-kun, you truly never cease to surprise me,_ ' Sarutobi thought once again, before saying, "I would be happy to tell you about your family, my boy."

Naruto gave him a brilliant smile, and while the face may have been Kushina's, the joy that lit him up was all Minato.

X


	15. Jade Eyes and Book Thieves (39 Clues)

Jade Eyes and Book Thieves

 _In one world, Grace chose to keep her grandchildren as far away from the extended Cahill family as she possibly could. In another, she chose to nurture an early friendship between Amy and a young Ekaterina. Or why, Ted- not Teddy!- Starling likes to steal library books from a stuttering, blushing nervewreck of a girl. Sinead calls it the 'advanced pigtail theory'._

x

She was five and he was six and she was adorable and he was audacious...

Ted Starling, unparalleled genius, inventor extraordinaire, and unappreciated triplet, was bored. Undeniably, irrevocably, helplessly bored.

"Do we have to be here?" he whispered, nudging Sinead who sat next to his right. They were arranged in what he privately termed 'duckling' order: Ned, Ted, and Sinead Starling, the brightest stars of their Ekaterina generation. Their parents were high up in the branch pecking scale (or so he assumed, since they were always dragged to events like this) and wanted to show off their brilliant offspring at a hosting by some kindly old lady. Ned and Ted had been forced into fancy vests and dress pants, while Sinead made a miserable sight in a pretty sunflower yellow dress.

(His sister looked looked strange without dashes of ink staining her hands and her trusty toolbox in hand.)

"If we weren't required to attend, do you think I'd be wearing this stupid dress?" his sister mumbled back, through her obviously fake smile.

Ned's hand snaked under his arm to grab his wrist. His fingers quickly tapped out a message in Morse code. 'T-h-i-n-k_ w-e_ a-s-k_ g-o_ c-r-y'?

(Morse code had never been Ned's strong suite but whispering even less so. Still, they made due.)

"Mom and Dad will be mad at us, if we cause a disruption," Sinead reminded him and Ted faithfully passed the message on to his brother.

'B-a-t-h-r-o-o-m?' Ned suggested.

"All three of us?" Ted deadpanned. "Your Lucky Charms marshmallow detector was a better idea."

Ned scowled. His fingers began tapping rapidly again. 'L-i-b-r-a-r-y_ h-e-a-r-d_ g-o-o-d_ a-s-k_ l-a-d-y_ g-o_ l-i-k-e_ b-o-o-k-s.'

"Well, anything is better than being subjected to your efforts in communication," Ted decided. He jerked his hand away from his brother but not before Ned got to pinch it.

"Excuse me," Ted spoke up, catching the adults' attention. The intelligent child with the sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes looked nervous as he met a keen, green gaze.

"Yes, Theodore?" Dr. Starling, a pretty brunette woman with a serious face and dark gray eyes, asked. His mother was an aloof, intimidating heart surgeon. She made the best cookies in the world, let the triplets terrorize the local bookstore as often as they liked and bought him his first professional software architecture program. Ted adored her.

"I was wondering if we could be allowed to explore your library, ma'am," Ted answered, lobbing the question to the elderly lady sitting across from him. "We've heard some very kind things about it."

"Ah, you're a lover of books then!" The old lady clapped her hands, seemingly delighted, "My granddaughter loves to read as well. And you young folk must be bored stiff listening to the adults prattle on. I would be happy to show you my library."

The triplets immediately perked up, though Dr. Starling frowned.

"We don't want to be an imposition, Grace," she protested lightly.

"No, no, encouraging a love of reading is never an imposition!" The old lady, now identified as Grace, waved the concerns away. She got to her feet and marched towards the door. "Tell me, Theodore, what type of books do you like?"

Not hearing an answer, Grace looked back to see that the Starling family hadn't moved. "Come now, get up already! How long do you intend to sit there?"

"We really don't want to bother you," Dr. Starling tried again.

"It wouldn't hurt to allow the children a few hours in the library, Ann," Professor Starling, a former architect and current Department Head at Yale, said, blue eyes filled with humor. The more relaxed parent of the pair reached down one hand and ruffled Ted's hair. "I don't want there to be any more or any less books in Grace's collection by the time we leave."

At once, three piping voices protested the accusation. " _Dad,"_ they whined.

"Why would they leave extra books in a library?" Grace asked, interest piqued.

"Ned has a bad habit of punishing his siblings by leaving their books in other libraries," Professor Starling explained gleefully, launching into one of his favorite anecdotes about his children's various quirks and mishaps. "It all started one afternoon, when I walked into the lovely sight of one Ann Starling-"

"-Edward!" Dr. Starling protested, blushing.

"It's part of the story, darling!" Professor Starling said, laughing.

Ted tuned his parents out of pure force of habit until they reached the doors of the library and Grace ushered the three children in. His siblings were quick to ditch him at the earliest possible convenience but Ted paused long enough to wave goodbye to his parents. He then turned to survey the library. Hardwood floors, tall shelves, skylights, and most impressively, more books than his own family's.

"Best. Relative. Ever," Ted immediately decided. Instead of giving into the urge to head directly to the science section of this magnificent library, he decided to indulge his inner explorer and wander around the shelves until something caught his eye. At the near almost opposite of the room, he came upon a most curious sight.

She was small, round-faced and decidedly unimpressive. Her nose was buried in a book far thicker than what he would expect for an average child of her age and he couldn't see enough of her face to decide on the color of her eyes. It was her hair though that fascinated him. Covered in a halo of sunlight, with individual red-gold strands waving lazily around her face and burnished like some sort of living copper.

Ted had to touch that hair. He had never wanted anything else in his life, as much as he desperately wanted this, right now. He absolutely would get to touch that hair.

"Ow!" Amy Cahill exclaimed, jerking her head away from that strange boy that had just appeared in front of her. She rubbed her head, as she looked balefully at the strands of red hair the boy was sheepishly holding.

"You creep! Why did you pull my hair?!"

Ted stared at her. Her jade green eyes glittered like gems. Unnatural. "Are... you an android?"

x

She was nine and he was ten and she was shy and he was silly...

"T-teddy Starling, g-give that back to me, right n-now!" the young red haired girl shouted, as she chased a slender boy down the stairs.

"Never!" the sandy-haired boy yelled back, offering an evil cackle. He sped up as they headed down the corridor, and made a sharp turn to the left. Holding a thick, hardcover book to his chest with one hand, he used the other to brace himself against the wall. When Amy started to skid against the marble floors, not having expected his turn, Ted stuck his foot out.

CRASH! "Aaahh!" Amy windmilled her arms in the air, desperately trying to keep her balance. She lost that battle to gravity and quickly fell elbows-first onto the ground. Ted burst out laughing.

"Ha! I win again, Cahill," he crowed. Waving the book in the air triumphantly, he continued to brag. "Man, you should have seen your face when you fell! You looked like someone ripped the floor from under you... Amy?"

Concern flit over his face briefly, as he looked at the still girl. "Amy... stop kidding around now! It's not that bad of a fall. Geez, you're not going to cry, are you? That's such a wimpy thing to do."

"N-no," Amy replied, voice shaking, as she pushed herself up to her knees. Her red hair fell all over her face but Ted could still see one hand going up to rub at her eyes. He started feeling a little guilty. "I-I'm not c-c-crying."

Ted started to squirm, as he felt the guilt settle in his stomach. Hesitantly, he took a step closer to the younger girl.

"It's- um- it's okay, if you want to cry. Ned still does it when one of his prototypes blow up!" he said hurriedly, offering her the book, "I didn't want you to get hurt. Normally, you just get angry and throw books at me and you stop stuttering."

Seeing that she was starting to look up, Ted shot her his most charming, 'I'm- totally -responsible -enough -to- use- a- blowtorch- without- supervision' smile. It must have worked, because she offered a shaky smile back. "Besides," the boy added cheekily, "You've read Pretty Little Women enough times to recite it from memory, right?"

"I'm s-still going to t-tell Grace about what you did," she informed him, sniffling, once he had helped her up.

Ted looked horrified. "But Amy, how else am I going to get dessert?!"

The nine-year-old stuck her nose up in the air snootily. "Y-you should have t-thought of that before you t-tripped me."

"Oh, woe is me," Ted moaned, "Deprived of a necessary food group... left to malnutrition and starvation... forced to watch as my family sates themselves before me... denying me even the simplest of pleasures..."

He dramatically swooned against the wall, legs sliding down to rest on the jade green carpet. Amy looked to be fighting a smile.

"Teddy S-starling, you are the m-most ridiculous boy I've e-ever met," she declared, grabbing his polo shirt and pulling him up. Ted hung limply against her, as she supported his weight and half-dragged, half-carried him to the closest guestroom. Despite her waifish form, Amy had some ridiculous upper body strength. If it wouldn't have offended his family's pride, Ted would have claimed that she was a Tomas.

(Not that Amy Cahill could possibly be a Tomas, because he, Theodore Albert Starling, would never have lost a game of Scrabble to a Tomas).

"I'm ten years old now," Ted complained, "You shouldn't be calling me Teddy anymore. It's not dignified!"

Ignoring him, Amy dragged the boy a few more feet and then plopped him none-too-gracefully on the bed. A moment later, and she had scrambled up to sit besides him. "You're h-heavy," Amy stated, matter-of-fact.

Ted's dark blue eyes widened. "Did you just implicitly call me 'fat'?" Ted propped himself up to glare at her.

Now she was definitely smiling. "M-maybe."

Ted gaped at her in pure shock. "That's it!" he pointed an accusing finger at her, "I won't stand for this kind of disrespect anymore! This means war!"

He promptly pounced on her, and started running his fingers over her ribs and stomach. "Give up, Cahill!"

"T-teddy!" Amy gasped, laughing, "S-stop tickling me!"

x

She was twelve and he was thirteen and she was earnest and he was envious...

"Dan, please tell me that your sister isn't making eyes at the Cobra," Ted ordered, frowning.

The blonde-haired boy nodded agreeably. "Okay, Ted. My sister is not making eyes at the Cobra."

They were lounging near the refreshment table at one of Grace's impromptu family reunions slash massive picnics and Ted was unhappy. The cause of his annoyance was a redhaired girl, who predictably turned tomato-red as the conversation turned towards her.

"I w-was not m-making eyes at h-him!" she protested. Amy looked away from the veranda, where several relatives, including a certain arrogant pretty boy, lounged.

"I don't even know why girls like him," Sinead shook her head, "He's vile, rude, narcissistic, shallow-"

"And gay," Ned interjected, helpfully.

"Yes, and quite possibly interested in batting for the other team," Sinead continued, not missing a beat, "Thank you, Ned. I have my reservations about his hairstyle too. That amount of gel has to be flammable."

(Someone should hold a match against it to find out just how flammable Ian Kabra's hair really was. For science.)

"I expected better from you, Cahill," he said, feeling unexpectedly frustrated, "I didn't think that you would be one of rich boy's groupies-"

"I l-like someone e-else!" Amy snapped, unexpectedly cutting him off.

"What?" Ted lost his train of thought. "You like someone? As in, romantically?"

Amy's face grew, if possible, even darker at his question but she still answered. "Y-yes," Amy admitted, staring forcefully at the ground under her feet.

Ted opened his mouth but found himself speechless for the first time in his life. His heart was beating rapidly and he thought that he could hear the sound of the ocean in his ears.

"Wait, Amy likes someone? Gross," Dan suddenly yelped, his loud voice attracting attention from all sides.

"D-Dan!" Amy's half-hissed, half-shrieked condemnation was cut short, as the mortified girl shrunk into herself.

Ted looked between the staring crowd and the painfully shy girl rapidly blinking wet eyes and steeled himself. Then Ted stood up and cleared his throat.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make," he waved his arms to redirect the crowd's attention, "My name is Ted Starling and I am an Ekat. I just wanted to say that my sister, Sinead, has a crush on Hamilton Holt, a Tomas. And I'm willing to support their strange and blasphemous relationship."

Then, as the crowd stared at him in stupefied disbelief, Ted Starling jumped to his feet, pivoted towards the gates and started running as if his life betted on it. It most likely did.

x

She was thirteen and he was fourteen and she was heartbreaking and he was hopeful...

"So this is what a public school looks like," Ted said, "It's not that different from private school really. If louder, less hygienic and with a considerable lack of space. How do you fit anything inside of that locker?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yes, Teddy, this is where the commoner goes to school. You know, you have the oddest knack for channelling Ian sometimes."

"The Cobra?" The young college student gasped, "Say it isn't so, my darling! I cannot possibly be akin to one so vile as-"

"Teddy!" Amy rebuked, laughing, "I swear, you can be so dramatic sometimes."

She closed her locker, and smiled at him. "Though I don't know why you and Dan seem to hate him so much."

(Because Ian thinks you're interesting for not falling head over heels for him like every other girl he comes across, of course. So, he'll want to seduce you and break your heart, and as your best friend, I have to protect you.)

Absentmindedly, he reached out a hand and brushed a lock of her fiery red hair behind her ear. Her cheeks predictably stained red.

"It must be the hair gel," Ted hummed, falling into step beside her, "Now, do I see a swing set outside? Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?"

"I d-don't really th-think that we should do that," Amy mumbled, appearing flustered. Ted was too busy observing his surroundings to notice the brief reappearance of her stutter.

Several boys were looking at them. Not very many but a fair few, who noticed his novel presence besides her. Ted supposed that this was natural. Amy was a pretty girl, if incapable of dressing herself in a sophisticated manner and sorely lacking the usual embellishments of makeup and such. Ted personally preferred it this way.

Reflexively, he returned a few of the glares he was given. His companion, quite naturally, remained oblivious.

"I doubt they have any rules against it," Ted replied, "And I didn't travel all the way down to Boston to sit in classes that I'm already far in advance of. Speaking of which, have you reconsidered my proposal to skip a few grades?"

Amy shrugged her shoulders. "I don't r-really want to s-skip grades," she confessed, tugging at her hair, "It g-gains attention."

"I don't believe that to be an answer but let's not argue unnecessarily," Ted announced, stepping outside and dragging her to one of the empty swing sets.

He pointed to it. "Sit," he ordered.

"Bossy," she rolled her eyes and sat. Ted stood behind her, grabbed the chains of the swing, drew it back and then pushed forward.

"Teddy," she shouted, as the swing began to move on its own power. "Make me a promise!"

"What promise?" he shouted back, making his way to the swing next to her and then using his feet to propel himself forward.

"That we'll be friends no matter what," she replied, raising her voice to be heard against the wind. Her hair was flying haphazardly in the wind but her jade green eyes still managed to catch his own dark blue ones as she turned her face towards him. "Promise me!"

"Okay, I promise," he said, laughing. A smile broke across Amy's face, and Ted's breath caught because it was happy, and boundless, and so ideally Amy.

She held a finger out to him. "Pinky swear?"

He shook his head exasperatedly because this was silly and ridiculous and childish... but he still held out his hand. They kept trying to entangle them amidst gales of laughter and moving swings and finally had to stop the swing set in order to link their pinky fingers togethers.

Ted smiled and looked into bright jade green eyes.

"Amy and Teddy- best friends forever."

x

She was fourteen and he was fifteen and she was captivating and he was curious...

"Amy?" Ted said, quite out of the blue one day, "I've decided something."

"And what is that?" she asked, idly, hand held still against the page on her book. They were sitting under the large oak tree in her backyard and she was reading aloud to him. _A Treatise on the Potential Political Ramifications of an Axis Victory on the Ottoman Region._ Hey, not every reading selection had a braille equivalent.

(Though I honestly prefer listening to you read, with your clear voice and almost-but-not-quite too fast rhythm.)

"I've decided that you're the most beautiful girl that I've ever seen," Ted announced.

"Teddy, you're blind," Amy's voice was exasperated but the Starling was confident that her cheeks were red. And there wasn't any hesitation in her voice when she addressed his disability. Good. Ted had put a great deal of effort toward acclimating Amy to his situation.

"I had decided this long ago," Ted continued, ignoring her, "Subconsciously, when I first ripped out strands of your hair and consciously, when I hacked your au pair's computer to steal your baby pictures."

He ignored her indignant squawk and added. "Don't worry. I sent a virus to wipe out those pictures before anyone else could steal them. You have poor computer security, by the way."

"I think I want to hit you," Amy's voice was low. Ted held his hands over his eyes in a blatant ploy of guilt-wracking. It was shameless. But then again, this girl was a trained fighter.

"Amy, has anyone ever kissed you?" The Starling boy focused acutely on her breathing as it hitched upward. Surprise? Guilt? He racked his memories for an explanation.

"Not Cobra," Ted said. He felt an irrational urge to find the Lucian, rip off his ears and staple them to his throat. Ah, casually indulgent violence. His association with Hamilton Holt was proving most fruitful.

"He fell on me, in Seoul," Amy admitted, sounding for all intents and purposes highly embarrassed. No lingering attraction whatsoever.

A part of Ted that he had difficulty in acknowledging uncoiled and released his tension.

"That's not how a beautiful girl should be kissed," Ted stated firmly. He felt a strange calmness overtake him, as he leaned towards her and rested his hands on her shoulders. His eyes could see shades of black, grey, and white coming together to form the barest of sketches of her face. Her heart beat faster but Amy didn't stop him. Slowly- to allow her time to move away- Ted bent his neck and pressed his lips against her. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three. He moved away.

Her lips were soft. She tasted like oranges. His heart was quite possibly beating fast enough to burst.

"That's how you're supposed to kiss a beautiful girl."

x

She was fifteen and he was sixteen and she was reckless and he was reproachful...

"God dammit Amy, what the hell were you thinking?" Ted's fingers dug into his palms, as he resisted the urge to grab the red-haired girl and shake her. It wouldn't do much to help her healing process along, and Ted was loath to bodily grab the girl when she had several cuts and a sprained ankle.

"I was thinking that if we didn't get that clue, the Vespers would kill one of the hostages," Amy shot back. He could only see the barest details of her face now, but he imagined it bore a look of defiance. "I did what I had to do, Teddy."

"You could have waited for Dan or Hamilton or- hell, even Rosenbloom!" Ted could only see in shades of black and grey now, with a depth perception that was shot to hell and then dragged through a dozen miles of briar thorns but even he could sense the scowl on the teenage girl's face at the mention of the cocky older boy. He was so frustrated that he didn't even feel the usual jolt of smugness at Amy's automatic derision.

"They wouldn't have gotten there in time," Amy grumbled, looking away. Her voice dipped in tiredness and despite Ted's desire to let her rest, he pressed on. He had to make her see her mistake. The next time she might not come back to him.

(And if I wasn't stupid enough to get myself blinded those years ago, I could be at your side, keeping you from risking life and limb in some madman's sadistic treasure hunt.)

"Isabel Kabra could have killed you," Ted said quietly. A hand, lined with callouses from martial arts training and slender fingers, wrapped around his. He intertwined his fingers with hers. It was a familiar habit from when she first had to drag him around to compensate for his missing sight.

"She didn't," Amy's voice lilted in the way that it did when she was smiling, "And besides, if I get hurt, I have my genius boyfriend to patch me up."

Ted ignored the faint hints of happiness her works evoked. He couldn't let her distract him from the main issue here. Though he did end up pursuing the medical field in the hope to help her, even if he couldn't actively hunt for clues anymore.

"I wish you would rely on someone else, anyone else, for at least little while," he sighed, "Even if you're the leader, you don't have to do everything alone, Amy."

She stayed quiet, and Ted gently tugged his hand away. As he got up to walk away, Amy's hand flashed out once again to grab his lab coat. She tugged on it.

"Stay with me tonight," she ordered. At Ted's undoubtedly incredulous look, she huffed. "I have a sprained ankle, idiot. We're only lying on the bed."

(Though if Amy wanted to have sex, a sprained ankle wouldn't be able to stop her. Still, I would rather our first time not be in a private hospital within the Madrigal compound.)

"I wonder what the Hippocratic Oath would say about sleeping with your patients," Ted mused, obligingly slipping under the cover with her, "I could get my medical license revoked for this."

"You're not a doctor yet," her voice was amused, "You're still in medical school."

"Details," he dismissed, wrapping his arms around her.

"The devil's in the details," Amy reminded him, pressing her head against the crook of his neck. Ted could smell the peppermint scent of her shampoo.

"Goodnight, Teddy."

x

She was twenty-two and he was twenty-three and she was dazzling and he was determined…

Amy ran in, flame-gold hair flying and narrow jade eyes scanning the room for any threats, before they fell on a certain relaxed genius reclining on the couch. When she could see that Ted wasn't in any imminent danger, her body relaxed from its coiled pose and she offered him a reproachful glance.

"Sinead said that this was urgent?" The dry voice signalled that the busy Head of the Madrigal Branch was not pleased.

"Er, I don't think she understood what kind of urgency I was hoping to convey," the brunette man defended himself, standing up and holding his arms out, "Sorry, Amy."

"At least I get to leave the office for a while," Amy conceded grudgingly, relaxing into the warmth of her boyfriend's hug, "So what kind of urgency did you have?"

" _Well…_ " Ted grinned, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small, velvet box. When he clicked it open, Amy's wide eyes could see the glittering top of a diamond ring, "Amy Cahill, I wanted to ask-"

"Yes!" Amy shouted, barrelling herself into his arms, "I will marry you."

"What? I didn't even ask you," Ted said, trying to balance on the balls of his feet and not drop the expensive gift.

Amy angled her head upwards, so her jade eyes could be narrowed on him. "And who else could that ring be intended for, if not your girlfriend of almost eight years?"

"Oh, it's definitely yours," the Ekaterina assured her, quickly remembering that he was dating one of the most lethal women in the world, "I just had this entire speech prepared out and I haven't even gotten to one knee and I really want to do this properly and, well…"

"Okay," Amy said, grinning and stepping back. Ted instantly missed the warm press of her body against his. "Sweep me off my feet, boy genius."

Ted did. He recounted every one of their important memories, told her how much he had come to cherish her friendship and love and shared his hopes for their future together. Then he got down on one knee, recounted the all-important question and waited for her reply.

And then Amy barrelled herself into his arms again.

x


	16. Starfyre 1 (Game of Thrones)

Starfyre in the Weirwoods

 _A mother's love brought Lady Lyanna Stark to the front door of the Tower of Joy. A brother's loyalty led Lord Eddard Stark to parley with an enemy. A knight's faith led Ser Arthur Dayne to commit to a life of servitude and guardianship. And between the three rested a daughter born of wolves and dragons, to retake her father's rightful throne. Long live the Queen. fem!Jon, alive!Arthur_

x

Ser Arthur Dayne, Knight of the Morningstar, the most faithful of the Kingsguard, and the best friend of the fallen Prince Rhaegar, knelt on a bloodied ground. His side throbbed in pain from the clean pierce of the Northerman's sword. Above him, his lady's brother stood, ready to separate his head from his neck.

Arthur met his death with open eyes. He could not deny the fear coursing through his veins but the Sept knew there to be no mercy. His companion had fallen. Dawn, the ancient sword of House Starfall, was out of his reach. His king was gone and he would not disgrace his family's honor by looking away.

Eddard Stark raised his sword in the air. The watery sunlight washed over the fine silber of the Ice blade. "May the Gods have mercy on your soul."

Ser Arthur looked ahead. The sword swung down.

"No, Ned!" The sound was second to an object, thick and heavy and bound in leather, thrown against the steel. The blade was drawn off course and dug into the moist dark soil.

Lord Stark did not move. "Lyanna."

A part of Arthur's mind noted the disturbance, even as his body lunged forward. One hand grasped the pommel of Dawn, cold iron pressed into his palm, as he clumsily brought it up. A clang of metal and the other man's sword wasn't digging into his flesh.

"Damn you, Reed, stand down!" That was certainly his lady then, her voice raised in the quick-filled fury of sudden sleet. "Lay down your weapon Arthur."

Arthur reluctantly drew his blade back. The man- Reed's- steel followed the yield for a heartbeat before he too acceded to the woman's command. The knight looked warily at the other soldier at the foot of the tower but Eddard Stark only had eyes for his younger sister.

He followed the wolve's gaze to Lady Lyanna Targaryen, staggered against the sun-warmed bricks of the Tower of Joy. Her skin was pale, her brows dark, and fresh blood stained her nightdress, but the woman was magnificent. Dark brown hair shone bronze in the midday light and those flinty grey eyes glowed in indignation.

"Lyanna, what did that monster do to you?" Eddard Stark whispered, attempting to step closer. Arthur bristled inside at the slight to his prince.

"No, brother." Despite the gentleness of her voice, the Stark flinched, as if struck. "Ser Arthur, will you kindly attend to me?"

Arthur inclined his head. "My lady." He had to use one hand to clutch his side lest more blood fall but the other allowed the slender girl to balance her weight on him.

"My daughter." Lyanna murmured and the knight briefly wondered how he could support the female wolf and fetch his princess at the same time, when he heard footsteps. From the shadows, beside the door, a handmaiden emerged. The bundled newborn was brought to her mother and despite the tension in the air, a soft, awestruck smile crossed Lyanna's face.

"This is my daughter," Lyanna said fiercely, as though fearing a denial. "My daughter, Ned. A child I willingly bore for my godsworn husband, Rhaegar."

Eddard soundlessly shook his head. Disbelief and horror and dawning realization was present.

"I loved him." Lyanna spoke to herself now, eyes wistful. "I should not have but I did, and thousands paid for the infatuation of a foolish girl. Now my Rhaegar is dead and I am soon to join him."

She shifted her weight to press more weight on him. Arthur slid down to the grass, backs against the wall, and gestured for the babe to be given to her. Lyanna's ams fumbled from exhaustion and inexperience but a pale-skinned girl with dark tufts of hair and Targaryen eyes peeked up.

"If you put down your blade then you may see your niece." The sword thumped against the grass.

"He didn't kidnap you. You chose to follow him." Eddard knelt beside him, at Lyanna's other side.

"I did, Brother." His lady's arms still trembled and blood continued to drip down her legs.

"Another woman's husband, Lyanna? He was married and you were betrothed!"

"I admit to my mistake, Ned. And now I shall die for it."

A curtain of brown hair did nothing to hide the tears slipping down her pale face. "I want to be brave."

All of Eddard's fury fell away. "Shh, you are."

"No, I'm not. I don't want to die." Lyanna brushed one finger against her child's cheek and her voice firmed. "Her name was to be Visenya Targaryen. Rhaegar had hoped that she would be just as fierce a warrior as his ancestress but it is not courage and valor that shall protect her today."

"Lyarra is a fine name for a Stark," the woman mused, "If Robert finds out, he'll kill her. You know he will. You have to protect her. Promise me, Ned. Promise me."

Arthur watched silently as the Winter Lord swallowed a dry throat and nodded.

"Anything, Ned. You must do anything to protect my daughter."

"I will," Eddard took her hand and squeezed, "I promise, Lyanna. I will raise her as my own."

"She will need a guardian." Lyanna's eyes turned to him and they were wide, shining with tears. "My husband ordered you here to protest us."

"He did," Arthur admitted. The last words his prince spoke were for a wife he should have never taken and a child that should never have been born.

"Go with her to the North. Look after your princess when I cannot," Lyanna urged. "Please."

"Lyanna, the king would never allow mercy to any of the Kingsguard. Jaime Lannister alone received clemency and that was for his betrayal of the Mad King."

"If Ser Arthur Dayne dies today, then another man can accompany by daughter north. Should her true heritage be revealed than at least I would know one soldier to fight for her." Lyanna looked towards him. "Arthur, would you…?"

The Knight of the Morning considered her plea. Travelling to the North was an exile in all but name. He would have to hide his appearance, hold back his skill, be beholden to the generosity and protection of an enemy, albeit one that would have been his good brother but for Brandon's death. Should the deception work, then he would be resigned to a life where he was worth little and had even less to a name, only to die in the frozen tundra.

It was a distasteful prospect but Arthur had beared greater in the service of his vow. He had stood aside as the Mad King tortured his subjects, held his tongue when Rhaegar spirited away another man's betrothed, and now was being asked to merely fulfill his oath of service. Poor Elia and her children were dead, and no matter how many proclaimed Baratheon as their king, Arthur knew the true heiress to be here.

He bowed his head. "As my lady wishes."

Lyanna's smile was tremulous and brilliant. "Thank you."

She turned to Eddard. "Brother…?"

"Robert Baratheon is the new king," the man said lowly. Though his words were directed at his sister, his eyes were trained on the wounded knight. "I will not betray him for another Targaryen."

"She has no army or wealth. None to stand by her and no one to recognize her name," Lyanna pleaded, "She's a babe, Ned. She won't be a threat to the Iron Throne."

A moment's hesitation and then Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell also bowed his head.

"Not to interrupt all this talk of secrecy and treason," the deadpan voice of Reed broke in, "But perhaps we should bandage this man's wounds before his service expires at a day's time?"

x


	17. Starfyre 2 (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Two

Howland Reed, Arthur discovered, was a man of exceeding practicality and general exasperation with the world. He found himself appreciating this more and more, as the Lord of Greywater Watch dryly pointed out the soldier's inability to feed a babe and paid for the services of a local wet nurse. The two men and the accompanying maid had relocated to an inn some miles away from the Tower, with Eddard riding ahead to arrange for someone to pick up and transport his sister's bones to Winterfell.

"The wet nurse agreed to travel with us as far as Riverland," Howland reported, arriving to the sitting room of their rented space. "You, girl, have you any wish to go with us?"

The young woman of four-and-ten shook her head, trembling hands clasped together. "No, m'lord. My mother and brothers live near here and I would like to stay with them."

"Very well, then." The man reached into his bag and withdrew a small coin purse. "For your silence."

The woman's eyes widened in pleasure and she bobbed a grateful curtsy. A second later and she had left the room, as Howland took a seat. "Have you chosen on a name then, Dayne?"

"Sand," the knight corrected softly. He still wore his bloodied clothing from earlier, carefully wrapping the white cloak on the Kingsguard into a hastily prepared trunk, and added to this a half-face mask. The material was dark yet porous, allowing him to breathe more easily, and tied around his face by thread torn from Lady Lyanna's dresses. Before they had left, Arthur had made sure to strip the Tower of a few of its valuables, including papers and letters between the lovers, some of Lady Lyanna's jewelry, a few books on House Targaryen, and one of Rhaegar's harps. He hoped to show them to the little princess one day.

"I will be Edric Sand, bastard-born soldier of Dorne and brother to a local tavern wench that Lord Stark took a shine to. As my niece would be the last member of my family alive, I chose to surrender to his service in order to raise her."

Howland nodded thoughtfully. "Eh, not a bad tale to spin. Perhaps not Eddard's bastard though."

"The girl looks too much like a Stark to hide her heritage," Arthur pointed out. It was a little depressing actually, how only her eyes and mayhaps the curve of a chin reflected Prince Rhaegar.

"Lady Stark would be more than displeased should her lord husband bring his bastard to their home," Howland reminded him, "Better a betrayal from a dead betrothed than a live husband."

"Brandon Stark would not have been in Dorne for the time of conception and Lyarra is too young."

"Then the child was conceived further north. Brandon had not his brother's honor, he would have done so. She was born smaller than average. Does her size really matter? No one pays attention to a girl."

Arthur frowned. Of that, he was well aware. Dorne was perhaps the most liberated of the region, in regards to a woman's ability to fight and defend herself but even they had their prejudices. "She is not just a girl. She is a Targaryen princess and she will grow to be more than some nameless lord's wife."

Howland raised his hands. "Peace. My wife has been trained to fight as well."

The knight subsided and looked to the door. "Is the woman done?"

Rather than wait for an answer, Arthur Dayne, now Edric Sand, rose from his seat and strided towards the door. The wet nurse had indeed finished and the little princess was now dozing quietly on the bed. With her eyes closed, there was no trace of the bloodline that would have her killed had others known.

Edric adjusted the blankets around her body- Targaryen's were warm by touch, there was no need for so many- and pushed back her few curls. "Sleep well, little dragon. Your knight shall guard you here."

Lyarra was given a half-day's more of sleep before her uncle arrived, face even more severe than usual after the grim task that he had to arrange. His face lightened a little when he saw the two inexperienced warriors try to handle his niece. Arthur was reverentially if nervously cradling the babe while a skeptical Howland poked her belly in apparent wonderment over the inside curve. Lyarra had been stripped of her dusty shift but the men were not entirely certain how to equip another.

"If we wrap it around her legs, then it would protect them from injury on the road."

"That would save us no excess cloth for the arms."

"It would give her warmth-"

"-That's what the blanket is for."

"Shall I call on the wet nurse then?" Eddard suggested, amusedly poking the babe's belly button as well and receiving a gummy smile for his troubles. The woman was summoned at once and pursed her lips at the sight of the child.

"We have completed some of the work already." Howland poked the knight now and Arthur reluctantly handed over the babe.

"Thank you for your work, m'lords." The wet nurse's tone was unimpressed as she promptly undressed Lyarra again.

After that inadvertent lesson in humility, Lyarra and her wet nurse were escorted to a wheelhouse and the group rode forward. They eventually came to a break in the road where Howard left to join the main Northern forces. Eddard and Edric pressed onwards to Starfall, the former filled with dread to meet his old flame and the latter quite more so, if not for the same reason.

The road to Starfall was lined with palm trees on either side, arching forward to a natural heart-shape from the heavy fruit weighing it down. The yellow-white sand bricks of the ancestral Dayne home rose up ahead: painted walls of rich violet and sunset orange, tall windows framed in gauzy curtains, terraced floors filled with potted greens and glass murals pressed into sunken walls. The home was surrounded by a thin gate of black iron, meant more for show than defense, and manned by a single guard. Rather than head there, Edric moved to one of the side paths branching off the main road and led the way to a more fortified gate.

There was a ringing bell there that summoned a servant woman. She seemed skeptical of the medallion pressed to her hands- simple bronze embossed with the Dayne sigil- but allowed them in. They were led to one of the smaller, more intimate meeting halls and offered seats in the low couches present. The wet nurse accepted, with the babe held to her arms, but Eddard and Edric both chose to stand. As they waited for the Lord of the House, his elder brother Aaron, to appear, Edric wondered if he would be recognized.

The servant appeared again with glasses of orange and pineapple juice and fresh dates, all refused by them. His older brother, whose beard was beginning to show signs of grey, appeared soon after. Surprisingly enough, his sister, Ashara, followed behind, her thick brown hair held back in a black widow's scarf.

Aaron's eyes barely acknowledged him before falling into a glare at the sight of Eddard. No doubt his fury was partially borne of Elia and her babes' death, as he was a close friend of Prince Oberyn. In comparison, Ashara couldn't seem to bare to look at Lord Stark or the child, and was staring at him and his unusual appearance instead. Edric braced himself to be dismissed by his younger sister.

"Arthur?" Ashara's voice was the picture of confusion, "Why are you wearing that silly mask?"

"Arthur?!" His elder brother's head whiplashed to him now. His eyes squinted for a second and then he strode forward to embrace him. "By the Gods, it is you! You're alive!"

"Hello brother, sister," Edric said, throat tightening. "You were not supposed to recognize me."

"You have our mother's hair, our father's build, and our grandmother's eyes," Ashara responded, rushing forward to embrace him too. "How could we not recognize our own kin? I missed you so."

"I missed you as well, sweet sister." He drew back to look at her more closely. There were dark rings around her eyes and a brittleness to her smile that hadn't been there four moons past. The last time, he had seen her… his eyes fell to her stomach. It had almost returned to its previous state.

Ashara hands on his doublet tightened briefly. "Say nothing, brother," she whispered in his ear.

' _She lost the baby. Her daughter and-'_ Arthur's eyes flickered to the man behind him. ' _Ned will never even know he was supposed to have a second child.'_

His sister stepped back, chin raised, defiant and proud, every inch the royalty that their Targaryen great-grandmother had been. Her eyes moved past Eddard again, fell on the babe in the chair, and welled up in tears. "Is that the one? Elia's stepchild?"

"Elia's stepchild?" Aaron echoed, face slack in realization, "The Dragon's whore had a damn child?!"

Eddard bristled. "Do not call my sister a whore."

"I will call her whatever I damn well like," the Lord of Starfall replied, "If it hadn't been for her own foolishness, we would have never had this war!"

"She would have no reason to be foolish if a married man eight years her senior had no cause to seduce her!" The Lord of Winterfell returned the glare with equal anger and it may have come to blows, had Edric not intervened.

"That's enough, brother! This is Rhaegar's last child, Queen Visenya of Houses Targaryen and Stark, Second of Her Name, Queen of the Anda-" He could not complete his introduction for two near identical snorts of derision from the other men in the room.

"Aegon Targaryen was the rightful heir to the throne not this bastard daughter of Rhaegar's!"

"Her name is Lyarra Snow and we have agreed that she will not challenge Robert for the throne!"

"You're calling Elia's step daughter a bastard?" Ashara demanded, appalled, "Prince Rhaegar had married Lady Lyanna in the Isle of Faces!"

She received three identical stares of shock at that protest and pursed her lips in response. "Elia was aware of Rhaegar's fascination was Lady Lyanna. It broke her heart but she allowed him to pursue her for reasons beyond my understanding. She had planned to help raise any child that Lyanna had."

Aaron was the first one to break the silence. "Sister, why would the Princess ever do such a thing?"

"I don't know," Ashara admitted, "When pressed, Elia would only say that the dragon must have three heads. I know that she was devastated when the Maester told her that her womb was barren. Perhaps she merely wanted another child to raise, even if it should be a she-wolf's pup?"

' _Princess Elia was aware of Lady Lyanna all along?'_ Edric thought, bewildered. ' _How could she not have said anything? Why would she protect the woman that stole her husband and her children's father?'_

He could see that his elder brother and Eddard Stark shared his current confusion. Ashara ignored all of them to step closer to the child, her face a strange cast between longing, regret and affection. She took a seat beside the servant woman and accepted the babe with gentle arms. His sister had clearly chosen to deny both Rhaegar and Lyanna's roles in the child's conception, instead regarding her as the daughter that Elia should have raised.

The men sat not far from her and his brother drew his attention. "What do you plan to do, brother?"

Edric explained the tale that he had formed with Howland Reed, receiving contemplative nods from the other two and a snort from his sister. "Is there something that amuses you so, sweet sister?"

"Merely the idea of you pretending to be some common baseborn soldier, brother," Ashara returned dryly. "You have not the temperament nor skill to pretend a commoner's life."

"I would have to agree with our sister," Aaron added, apologetically to his indignation, "You received a nobleman's education. Your manner of speech, skill with a blade, confident stride… all will reveal you faster than the Dayne look so prominent on your person."

"I don't suppose you have your own ideas then? And no, we shall not leave the princess here."

"Prince Oberyn should be allowed to meet his sister's stepdaughter," Aaron stated.

"Perhaps when his ire cools from the Princess' death, we can afford to arrange an introduction."

"We should not be arranging anything," Ned said fiercely, "Already there are too many people aware of her parentage. Another man will increase the risk and this one will be compelled by vengeance to risk Lyarra's life!"

"If that is your wish, then we shall not tell him presently," Edric soothed.

"I have another suggestion for Lady Lyarra's background. She will be my daughter," Ashara stated firmly. "My child with… with Brandon, born late in term and sent north with her uncle to protect my reputation. She may continue to carry the name 'Sand' until the Lord Dayne's anger cools enough to adopt her to our House. As House Dayne still intends to cultivate this relation, a sword sworn from one our most loyal bannerman, House Newland, will accompany her."

"It is a fine background, sister. I shall accept our House's name to be used to protect the babe."

"I suppose it doesn't hurt that House Dayne is given a close connection to the last Targaryen in Westeros," Eddard snarked.

Aaron smirked. "No, it does not. Though you should thank us for this, Lord Stark. The child may take after her mother but there is enough Targaryen blood there, that you would benefit from the Daynes."

There was some additional argument but the group finally accepted Ashara's proposal. As Edric stood to fetch some of his own things to take to the North, he heard Eddard approach his sister.

"Ashara, please let me speak to you…" The Northerner sounded desperate.

"I don't believe that there is anything left to say, Lord Stark." His sister's voice was as dry and ruthless as the desert sands of their home.

' _Now there is one conversation that I wish nothing with,'_ Edric shuddered slightly, and promptly headed out. Before he crossed the door, a thought occurred to him and he looked over at the wet nurse. She sat there, pale and bewildered, but her ears appeared to work well enough.

Edric caught his brother's eye. Aaron nodded curtly and he headed upstairs. It would be handled.

x


End file.
